Behind These Hazel Eyes
by RMTNDEW
Summary: My name is Jayden, I see things. I ran away to meet a man named Logan, then I was sent to Xavier's institute. I thought things would be easier there. They weren't. And now things seem to be getting worse.
1. Past, Present and Future

Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Fox or the title of this story. Oh, and X-3 never happened. Ever.

Author's Note: This is the third story in a series of stories I had no intentions of ever writing. But ya'll kept asking me to, so who am I to deny the people what they want. : ) If you want to understand this story better, I suggest that you read the first two stories; 'Confessions of a Broken Heart' and 'Remember When It Rained'. Although you don't have to. I tried to write this as a stand alone piece that you can read even if ya'll haven't read the other two. I want to give a big thank you to Rowena DeVandal for being my beta reader and I'm sure everyone else thanks you as well, now that they don't have to muddle through my horrible spelling mistakes. If ya'll get the chance, check out her profile and take a look at her stories, too. Now onto the new story, enjoy!

* * *

Behind These Hazel Eyes

My name is Jayden. I see things.

Things that aren't of this time. Some are of the past, some are of the future. I know the difference between my visions and my dreams. They're never confused. _Never_.

I'm in a room, on my knees, on a rough concrete floor. I'm naked, beaten and bruised. I'm kneeling in front of a tank of water.

"Are you ready to play?" a man named Josh asks me.

I don't say anything. I stare straight ahead, silently.

Then he pushes my head into the tank of water.

I hold my breath for as long as I can; until I feel my lungs start to burn. Then I can't hold it anymore. It feels like fire in my chest and I want to scream, but I can't. I wait for them to pull me up, I pray for them to.

I wait.

I wait.

Then the darkness comes.

I woke up with a gasp, sitting up in bed.

I know the difference between my visions and my dreams. They're never confused. Never.

Until now.

Two weeks before, I had fallen asleep while watching a movie with one of my friends, during which I had had a vision where I saw my own death. Since then I had been having nightmares of what I had seen. Of how I died. But I didn't die drowning; I died a different day, in a different way.

At least I was supposed to, anyway.

"Another dream?" my father asked from the chair he was sitting in a few feet away from me in our motel room.

"Yeah," I said quietly, nodding my head.

It was dark, the only light coming from the cracked bathroom door, but I knew he could see me, just how I could see him. We shared enhanced senses, like animals, only mine weren't quite as strong as his. They were still growing. But even though they weren't quite as developed, I could smell his cup of coffee, I could hear the sound of his calm and easy breathing, I could see the tiredness in his eyes. He was just as exhausted as me. Maybe more.

Since my original vision, he and I had left our home in Westchester, New York and had moved from motel to motel, just to keep me happy. After what I had seen, which included eleven men kidnapping and torturing me because of something my father had done, we had set up a sting where he had killed them all.

All but one.

Since that night, we had been living in motel rooms, hoping to take us both from the nightmares we had left behind.

But instead, they followed.

I looked at the clock on the table between our beds and saw that it read twenty after three in the morning.

"Have you slept any?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered simply.

I let out a deep sigh and ran my fingers through my sleep tangled hair. "How long have you been awake?"

"About an hour."

"Great," I mumbled, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed and standing. I walked over to where he was sitting. "Mind if I join you?"

"No," he said. "Sit down and I'll get you a cup of coffee."

I sat down at the table and watched him as he searched for a clean cup to pour coffee into. He was my father, but I had only known him for a year. When I was three, my birth mother gave me up for adoption and I was adopted at four years old. With the exception of my first four years, where I lived in Canada, I spent my whole life in Northern California with my adopted family. I never knew anything of my father. I had never heard of him, seen him, or even knew his name. Then right before I turned eighteen, I began having visions of him.

His name was Logan.

After a month of visions night after night, all starring him, I left home with six hundred dollars I had stolen from my parents, a name of a stranger, and only a general idea of where I was going. After two weeks, I found him. In the end, I spent nearly two months away from home, one of which was actually spent with him. But once I found out who he was, my father, I left. He had too much on him, a life of his own, and I didn't think there was enough room to fit me in. After I had been home for almost a month, I received a visit from one of his co-workers offering to let me stay at the school where he and Logan taught. He said it was Logan's idea for me to stay there. The school was Xavier's Insatute For Gifted Youngsters. The co-worker was a man named Scott Summers, a man still grieving his wife's death for over a year.

I had been living at Xavier's since the beginning of the year, nearly nine months. And the two weeks Logan and I had spent away, trying to get our minds together, I missed it. It was my home. The people there were my family, and I loved them more than I ever thought I would.

Once Logan found a clean cup, he poured it half full of coffee and sat it in front of me before sitting down once again, in the chair beside mine, and took a sip from his own cup.

"Did you have another dream, too?" I asked quietly, then blowing on my hot coffee.

"Yeah," he said, looking at me in the dark.

"Sorry," I mumbled just as quietly as before."

"It ain't your fault."

"It is some." I watched him cock an eyebrow at me in question. "You started having your dreams right after I told you about my vision and everything that I saw. I would say that's my fault."

He set his cup down and adjusted himself in his chair. "None of it's your fault, darlin'. My dreams are what I remember, and I remember what they did to me. Not you, go it?" I nodded my head. "Good."

In the past two weeks, I had been reliving my visions through nightmares, where men raped and tortured me. Logan had been reliving his past through nightmares where men raped and tortured him. Neither of us spoke about it; we both knew that the other understood what was going on, but there was no need for words. I was clairvoyant; I had a strong intuition, and could sometimes grab a hold of other people's thoughts. But when Professor Xavier had explained my mutation to me when I had first arrived, he said that Logan's and my mind were so strongly connected, that our thoughts and emotions often transferred to the other. And it was true. If he was ever in pain, I felt it. If he was having a bad dream, I knew it. And he was pretty much the same with me. So although I had been having most of my own nightmares, I was also having some of his. And his hurt worse, because I had to watch the one person I loved more than anyone in the world be tortured, cut open, and operated on, while the people around him treated him like nothing more than a dumb animal. The past two weeks had been hard. For both of us.

We were exhausted.

I pulled my feet up to my chair, pulling my legs in close and hugging them. I laid my head on one of my knees and stared at him. He gave me a weak, tired smile. "You look tired," he said.

"I am." I let out a tired, deep sigh. "I just want to be able to sleep through the night, you know? These two and three hour nights just aren't cutting it. I need some real sleep."

"Go back to bed, then. I'll be here if you have another bad dream. Don't worry about it."

I shook my head. "Aside from the fact that I just _can't_ right now, that bed sucks."

That earned a laugh. "What about mine; you wanna' swap?" I shook my head quietly. He studied me for a minute before running his hand through the back of his hair. "What do you wanna' do then?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I don't know what there _is_ to do."

He looked at the alarm clock over my shoulder. "We could go get some pancakes," he said with a small smirk.

I quirked an eyebrow as I raised my head to look at him better. "Where are we going to get pancakes this early in the morning?"

"I'm sure we can find somewhere."

I thought for a moment. "Okay," I said. "Why not?"

It didn't take me very long to get dressed to leave. I traded my track pants for a pair of worn out jeans and pulled on a T-shirt over my wife-beater before slipping on a pair of flip-flops. Then we packed the car, Logan checked out, and we left. There was no point in staying there any longer; it was time to move again. We had been in West Virginia for less than a week and we kept driving south. At just a little after four in the morning, we saw a sign saying that Charleston was only a few miles away and that there was a twenty-four hour diner not too far from it. That's where we stopped.

The diner had more people in it than I expected. There was a few truckers sitting at the bar, a couple of booths were filled with a group of teenagers, who all kept swapping seats from one booth to the other, and there were a few intoxicated men scattered through the whole of it.

Logan and I took the booth farthest from the loud and annoying teenagers and grabbed two menus. I tried concentrating on it, but the blinking sign outside kept grabbing my attention. I stared at if for a moment, not knowing why it was so important. Until I felt my eyesight shift. Everything went blurry. And when it came into focus, I was standing outside the diner. There was a girl around my age, maybe a little younger, standing out by the road, looking up at the blinking sign. She was a runaway, scared and hungry. She was waiting for one of the truckers to leave so that she could ask them for a ride. She needed to get to Cincinnati, Ohio. I didn't know what was so important about Ohio, but it meant something to her.

Soon, a man emerged and walked towards one of the large semi-trucks. I watched her as she started walking across the road; the only thing on her mind was getting to him before he left.

She was distracted by the noise all around her, the fact that she was too hungry to think and by the desperation to reach the man in time that she never noticed the semi on the road heading straight towards her. She only saw it the second before it hit her.

She never got to Ohio.

My eyesight shifted, went blurry and then came to focus back on the inside of the diner.

"You okay?" Logan asked.

I looked at him, trying to blink away the images, and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What'd you see?"

"A girl."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Who?"

"I don't know. But she died out there," I said, nodding my head towards the window, to the dark street outside. "She was hit by a semi-truck."

"You saw her die?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

I stared out the window, to the street beside me. I watched the cars drive by, none of them slowing down to show respect to the event that had taken place there. I had seen people die in my visions before, I had even seen my own self die, but there was something about that one that was different. Maybe it was because she was my age. Maybe it was because when the vision was over with, I still had to see the spot where she had died. It was all grounded into a reality I didn't want to face but was forced to do so everyday. I wasn't sure what it was, but the image of her being hit by the truck stayed in my mind.

I let out a heavy sigh. "Yeah," I said. "I think I'll be okay."

He adjusted in his seat and I caught him staring over my shoulder from the corner of my eye. I turned my head to where he was looking. There was a waitress barely in here twenties with long brown hair and big brown eyes. He was staring at her. I turned my head back around and rolled my eyes at him.

"What?" he asked, groping the inside of his jacket.

"Do you really miss her _that_ badly?"

"Stay outta' my head, darlin'," he said, finally pulling out what he was looking for; a cigar and a lighter.

"I'm not in your head. And even if I _was_, it doesn't work so easily as just leaving it alone when you tell me to. You know that." I looked at the waitress over my shoulder once more. "Well, _do_ you miss her?"

He stared at me in silence as he lit the end of his half used cigar. He inhaled it and savored the taste before blowing out the smoke. "Maybe," he finally answered vaguely with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes at him once more. "Whatever, dude."

By 'her' I had meant Marie, Rogue. She was a friend of his that wasn't much older than me. She had snuck into his truck after running away from home and meeting him in Canada. They both went to Xavier's together and that's where she lived now. Before I had met her, when I had only seen her in my visions, I thought she just had a crush on him, and that he thought of her as only a friend. And when we first met he told me they were just friends. At the time he was still hurting over the woman he had lost, but never truly had to begin with; Jean Grey-Summers. Scott Summers' wife. After she had died, Logan left for Canada, where I found him. But when I got to the school, when I finally got to be around them both, I realized she didn't have a crush on him; she was in love with him. It didn't take me very long to pick up on the fact that he felt the same about her. The only thing keeping them apart was the fact that if anyone touched her skin for too long, they would die. Even Logan, with all his regenerative mutations. He was just as vulnerable to her touch as anyone else. Also, despite what anyone thought of him, underneath all the hair, muscles and bad attitude, he had some sort of scruples, and he couldn't be with someone so young. Not yet, anyway. But Logan was a hunter by nature and a very patient man; he could wait.

"Hi, my name's Julian, what can I start the two of you off with to drink?" the waitress asked, standing in front of our table. She was the one Logan had been eyeing, the one who looked like Marie.

"Coffee," he said, looking up and into her eyes.

"Regular or decaf?"

"Regular. And make it strong, darlin'; I'm gonna' need it."

She smiled and I saw a blush creep across her cheeks as she looked away, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll see what I can do," she said, then turned to me. "What can I get you miss?"

"I'll have the same."

"Make hers decaf," Logan said.

"I don't want decaf," I argued.

"You don't need coffee, all it's gonna' do is keep you from gettin' any sleep."

"Yeah, that's the point; it keeps you awake."

"Which is why you don't need it."

"No, that's why I _do_."

"I'm your father."

"Oh don't even pull that crap with me this early in the morning," I snapped. "You didn't have a problem with me drinking it when I woke up. Besides, you're drinking it, why can't I?"

"'Cause you're eighteen-"

"I'm nineteen, thank you-"

"- And you don't need to do something just 'cause I do it. Do as I say; not as I do."

"That's great. What did you steal that line out of? 'Parenting For Dummies'?"

He stared at me, giving me a stern look. It didn't scare me, he was my father; he wouldn't hurt me. But the kids at school nearly wet themselves whenever he gave them that look. I just flashed him a smirk and turned my attention back to the waitress. "I would like a cup of regular coffee, please," I said as politely as I could muster. And then she turned and left.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked.

"I don't know; was it? Because, you know, you started it."

"I started it? All I said was you didn't need coffee so that you could sleep."

"I _can't_ sleep, Logan, you know that. Every time I do, I keep having nightmares. Whether they're my own or yours, it doesn't matter. When I'm asleep, I see things I don't want to see, so I would just rather stay awake."

He muttered out a string of swearwords before taking another puff from the cigar sitting easily between two fingers on his left hand. He blew out smoke rings, careful not to get them in my face. "Well, judgin' from a few minutes ago, you're seein' things you'd rather not see when you're awake, too." The look on his face was that of complete and utter victory; he had won our argument.

"I hate you," I said, sitting back in my seat and crossing my arms over my chest.

"No you don't," he said, giving me a wink. "You just wish you did."

"It would make things a lot easier, that's for sure."

"But would it make 'em better?"

I was quiet for a moment, before letting out a frustrated sigh. "No," I admitted defeated, "it wouldn't." I uncrossed my arms from my chest and folded them on the table in front of me and laid my head down on them.

"I thought you didn't want to sleep?" he asked.

"I'm not sleeping; I'm resting," I mumbled.

"What's the difference?"

"The difference is when I'm awake, I have somewhat of a sense of control over what I see. When I'm asleep, I can't control what my sub conscious sees. And it all plays out in my head, even when I don't want it to."

I closed my eyes and was rewarded with the images of the girl being hit by the truck. I opened my eyes and let out a deep breath, sitting back up.

I wasn't going to get any rest, either.

As I stared out the window, into the darkness, my mind wandered. My life had changed so much in the past year; I didn't know how to deal with it. I had grown up in a good family where image meant everything. I had been a good student at the girl's prep school I had attended. I had at one time been a Girl Scout, although I had been removed from my group after punching another girl. I was eight and I knocked her front teeth out. My parents never knew about it, and after that small incident, I didn't hit anyone again. I wasn't raised in a violent family, and violence wasn't acceptable. But I felt it deep down inside of me, fighting to get out. There was a part of me that was all rage and anger and passionate fury that I had to keep under control at all times. I had to make sure that I was on my best behavior, I had to be perfect, I had to force myself into a routine so that I wouldn't step out of line. I felt it boiling inside of me for nearly all of my life, never knowing _what_ it was exactly.

Until I met Logan.

Then I realized it was him. It was his berserker rage. It felt like a caged animal clawing to get out. It was constant work to keep it under control. And for so long I had been made to believe it was wrong. Everything I thought, felt, believed, that was different from my family, was all wrong. I had thought it was my fault for so long, I truly began to believe it. My whole life I had been led to believe that something was wrong with me. It wasn't until I met Logan that I realized there was nothing wrong; I was just like him. And for the first time in my life, something felt right. I felt in control of my future. That didn't last long.

Control; for someone so obsessed with the idea of it, it was something I actually had very little of.

I had lost control of my life, my surroundings, myself. Everything had gotten so messed up and completely _out_ of control. _That's_ why I was sitting in a diner in Charleston, West Virginia with my father at half past three in the morning. It's why I hadn't been able to sleep. It was also why I was eyeing all of the other customers suspiciously, wondering if one of them was watching us.

Logan excused himself and went to the bathroom. On his way there, I saw him pass by our waitress. She smiled at him and blushed once again as he gave her a half smile and a wink. I rolled my eyes to myself and sat back further in my seat.

"Here's your coffee," Julian said, setting the cups down on the table.

"Thank you," I said, picking a cup and pulling it to my side of the table.

"Where are the two of you from?"

"New York," I said, taking a sip of my hot coffee and deciding to let it cool off more.

"What are you doing down here?"

"We're trying to spend some time together before I start college next month," I lied.

"Is he really your dad?"

"Yeah." I adjusted in my seat some so that I could see her better. "Why?"

"Just curious," she said. "He's kind of cute."

I let out a laugh. "Yeah, if you're into hairy guys."

"Is it just the two of you?"

I cocked an eyebrow at her. "If you're asking if my mother, or his wife or girlfriend is with us; then no. This is just our little 'father daughter bonding' trip."

"So is he -"

"Single?" I asked, cutting her off.

"Yeah, I guess," she said with a bit of a blush.

I stared at her hard for a moment, letting out a deep breath. "Yes, he single. But the woman he loved died only a year ago, so it doesn't really matter. He's pretty much useless in any sort of relationship right now."

"Oh, you poor thing!" she said, putting one of her hands on my shoulder and the other over her heart. "How long were they together?"

I looked at her hand and then back up at her. "They _weren't_," I said flatly. "She was married to another man. He was just in love with her."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine; I never knew her. I just knew her husband after she died. He and my dad work together."

"How does that…work?" she asked, finally moving her hand from my shoulder.

"It's okay, I guess," I said, taking a sip of my coffee. It was still too hot. "They don't get along too well, though."

"I can imagine."

I looked back up at her. "Oh, it really doesn't have much to do with the fact that my dad was in love with his wife. They didn't get like each other from the time they met. But now they don't get along because I'm in love with the other guy."

She gave me a startled look. "Oh," she said simply.

I gave her a small, unenthusiastic smile. "Yeah, and we all live together in one big happy home."

"You live _together_? Why?"

"Well, they're both teachers at a boarding school for kids, and I moved in with him, so we all live together at the school."

"He's a teacher?"

"Yeah."

"What does he teach?"

I eyed her for a moment, taking another sip from my coffee. "He doesn't really like me to say, but I'm proud of him, you just have to promise you won't tell him that I told you."

"I won't," she said.

"He teaches interpretive dance. A lot of the kids there have had pretty rough lives and he teaches them how to express their emotions without violence. He's _very_ good at it," I lied with a perfectly straight face.

She blinked at me. "Well, I'm going to let you look over your menu a little longer and I'll be back in a minute to take your orders."

"Okay, thank you," I said and smiled to myself as she walked away.

Logan came back after a few minutes and sat back down. "What're you so happy about?" he asked.

"Just got my second wind," I lied, giving him a brilliant smile.

He stared at me for a second longer before picking up his waiting cigar from the ash tray and taking another puff. He looked at his menu. "Whatever makes you happy, darlin'."

* * *

Two and a half hours later, Logan and I had finished our pancakes and shared a piece of cake while he wondered why the waitress had seemed to lose interest in him. Then we left and started driving again. When we reached Ohio, he let me stop on the side of the road and pick some flowers. I bundled them together and left them on the state line for the girl who had died on her way there. She deserved more, but it was all I could do. By nine o'clock that morning I had consumed three orange sodas, two bag of Skittles, two cups of coffee and together we had polished off a box of half a dozen doughnuts. While on my sugar high, I confessed why the waitress had been suddenly uninterested. He stopped talking to me and I came down from my sugar high and crashed. I propped my head against the window, and the last thing I remembered before falling asleep was feeling Logan kissing my hand.

* * *

I felt the heat of the room setting on my skin like a weight before I ever opened my eyes. When I finally did, I woke to find myself lying on a bed in another motel room. I rolled over onto my back and sat up, looking around. 

"Logan?" I called out, my voice sounding rough and hoarse from sleep.

"In the bathroom," he called back. A few moments later he emerged with wet hair and dressed only in his blue jeans. "How'd you sleep?"

I pushed the hair out of my face. "Like a rock," I said. "What time is it?"

"About three in the afternoon."

"Where are we?"

"Still in Ohio."

I nodded my head absentmindedly. "Have you slept at all?"

"Yeah, I got about three hours in."

I looked up at him leaning in the doorway of the bathroom. "Liar," I said, calling him out.

A corner of his top lip curled up in a half smirk. "I slept for about an hour, then watched you for a while before gettin' in the shower." He went quiet for a moment, thinking. "I called home earlier. Hank said to tell you hello and when we get back, he's gonna' make you a birthday cake."

I smiled. I had spent my nineteenth birthday in New Jersey. Which I didn't mind, considering I was supposed to have spent it beaten and chained to a metal beam. But I wished things could have been better so that I could have spent it with Hank.

"I miss him," I whispered quietly, without realizing it.

"You ready to go and see him?"

"No, not yet. Right now I just…" I shook my head. "I can't be around them right now," I said. "I don't think I'm ready."

He crossed his arms over his bare chest and gave me a long, hard stare. "What're you scared of?" he asked as delicately as he could.

I looked away from him, but I could still feel his gaze on me. "I don't know."

"Yes you do." I closed my eyes and let out a long breath, but didn't say anything. "Baby, what're you scared of?"

I opened my eyes and looked up at him. "I really don't know," I admitted. "In my vision, I was scared of people touching me or being around people because of what those men did to me. I was scare that my intuition was off and that there was a possibility that _anyone_ could hurt me, even at the school. But now." I shook my head. "I don't know. I'm just scared."

"You know I'm not gonna' let anyone hurt you." I didn't say anything. "You know that, right?"

"I know that you wouldn't let anyone hurt me on _purpose_, but…"

"But what?" he asked, looking upset.

"I don't know, Logan. I just… In my vision, you didn't _let_ me get hurt, but there was nothing you could do to _stop_ it, either."

"It was a _vision_, it wasn't real!" he said.

"No, they are real; they just haven't happened yet," I defended.

"And they're not gonna' happen, not that one, 'cause I ain't gonna' let it."

"But you didn't stop it then. And bad things happened to me. How am I supposed to _not_ be scared?"

"You think I'm gonna' let someone hurt you? You don't think I would do everything I could to take care of you?"

"No, I know you would do everything you could to protect me. You have since the day I met you. But there are things that could happen that you might not be able to save me from."

"I'm _always_ gonna' save you darlin', I promise."

"You can't promise me that, though. You can't promise me that nothing's going to happen to me, because there's no way you can protect from _everything_. Eventually I'm going to die, we all die, and…I don't know."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "You're scared of dyin'?"

I looked away. "No," I said. "Not really. I'm just scared of how I _died_."

"You're not dead."

"I know, but I _saw_ myself die. I _saw_ it, and I didn't like it. I didn't die because someone beat me to death, or because someone shot me. I died because of _me_. Because I couldn't handle what had happened to me, what I had become. I'm scared of the fact that I can't control my emotions, that I allow myself to get to a point where I'm so depressed that I've attempted suicide. I'm scared of that and I don't want anyone else to see it."

"Why?"

"Why? Because I don't want people, the people that I consider my _family_, to know that I'm a depressed, suicidal psycho."

"You're not a psycho."

"Really? You _honestly_ think that? You think that I'm this perfectly well balanced person?"

"No, you're my daughter; you're bound to be a little screwed up. That comes with the package, darlin', you can't get rid of that. But I don't think you're psychotic, either."

"Then what's wrong with me?" I asked almost desperately. "Why am I like this?"

The expression on his face softened. "I just told you; you're _mine_. That's all that's wrong with you."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm serious."

"So am I," he said, moving from the doorway. He walked to my bed and sat down beside me. He pulled me close and held me to him. "You're not crazy, you're not insane, and you sure ain't psychotic. Your problem is you grew up one way. Thinkin' one thing, and bein' told something else. You were scared of people leavin' you after you're momma did, and with reason, so you got scared of people. You got used to doin' what people wanted you to do, what they expected you to do. And now you can make up your own mind and don't know what to do without someone tellin' you to do it."

"That's great. I'm not crazy; I'm just scared of making up my own mind," I said sarcastic and bitterly.

"You'll get it figured out sooner or later, don't worry about it. You don't have to start school for another three weeks, so we don't have to go home for a while. All right?"

I nodded. "Yeah." I clung to him tighter. "I love you, Logan," I whispered.

He gave me a kiss on the top of my head. "I love you, too, baby."

* * *

For the next five days, something odd happened; neither of us had a single nightmare. And I foolishly believed they were over. That we were through with our hellish nightmare episode. But, of course, we weren't. It was only building up so that it could unleash itself on me and overwhelm me with its force. 

Which is exactly what it did.

We were in a room that was dark and damp. I couldn't tell how big the room was because the little light that was there was shone solely on the man restrained to a metal hospital bed.

Logan.

He was tied at his ankles, thighs, wrists, arms and his head. There was a restraint for his midsection, but the two straps drooped loosely over the edge of the bed, unused. He was unclothed and the hair on his head was wild and long, making him look more like an animal caught in a trap than I had ever seen him.

There were four men, all wearing lab coats. Three stood off to the side, holding clip boards. The other stood by a table holding several sadistic looking surgical instruments, a small container, a fair sized metal bowl, and what looked to be a blow torch.

But my eyes were on Logan. I watched him buck and pull and fight against his restraints with little effect. His mouth was twisted, his top lip curled up in a snarl. He said no words, but growled from deep inside his chest, sounding primal and enraged, while still helpless.

No one spoke. They just went to work. The man set apart from the rest of the group took two items from the table; the container and the metal bowl. Then he brought them over to Logan, who curled back his lip further and let out a loud, barking growl that reverberated through the room.

He opened the container and reached in his hand carefully. Then he pulled out a starved and mad looking rat, holding him by his tail. The rat kicked his feet, running on air with no effect. The man was cautious as he placed the rat on Logan's stomach and then the metal bowl over it. He held the bowl still with one hand while reaching for one of the heavier looking tools from the table with his other. He put the instrument on top of the bowl in place of his hand, weighing it down and not allowing the rat any way to escape.

He picked up the blow torch, then pulled down a protective shield for his face and turned the blow torch on, producing a two or three inch flame from its tip.

Then he began to heat the metal bowl.

I could feel Logan's pain began as the bowl began to grow hotter and hotter. The men with clipboards began taking notes as the sound of the rat, desperate to escape, could be heard as he claw at the metal surface, trying to find a way out. Soon the outer rims began to burn his flesh and I could feel it.

But that was nothing compared to what happened next.

The starved and crazed rat, with no way to go up through the metal bowl, became frantic and decided to claw down, through the soft flesh below him.

I felt the ray gnaw away at Logan's skin, attempting to get away from the heat and escape as quickly as possible.

Logan bucked and pulled at the straps harder now. His voice wasn't formed into words, only howls of pain and terror as the ray ate through the flesh of his stomach. Logan screamed and gnashed his teeth while tears filled his angry eyes as the ray broke through his skin and burrowed his way down into his organs.

I felt Logan's pain burn through me as the rat crawled, chewed and clawed its way through the inside of his body.

I watched him from the outside as he writhed in pain on the hard, cold hospital bed. But on the inside, I felt the horrors I couldn't see. Although the man had turned off the blow torch and there was no longer a sense of burning from the bowl, I could feel the wound made by the ray start to heal and stitch itself back together. I felt the itch as the skin began to form to cover the hole and attach and repair itself.

And I could still feel the rat.

It ran its way though Logan's stomach until it was sure that it was far away from the heat. Then it began to dig its way out. A pain I couldn't describe burned through my body as the rat fought its way out. All the while Logan screamed and growled as spit foamed at his mouth.

After a few minutes, with a great burst of pain, the rat made its way out, emerging from the skin on Logan's chest. Its fur was matted and covered in deep red blood. The man standing by him picked up the rat by its tail and lifted the bowl from Logan's stomach. He placed the rat underneath the bowl once more and brought the flame back to the blow torch.

"_Let's try it once more_," the man said, placing the tip of the flame back against the bowl.

I looked into Logan's eyes and saw the pain and terror inside them as his voice bellowed, crying out with a loud, horrified scream.

I woke with a start, feeling his scream at the back of my throat as my mouth opened wide in a scream of my own. I felt my chest and stomach burn in the memory of the pain he felt. Soon my scream died in my throat and was replaced by the taste of bile. I jumped from my bed and ran to the bathroom. As I began vomiting, I heard Logan run from his bed into the bathroom with me. He grabbed a towel from the towel rack and ran it under the water from the sinks faucet. Then he draped it over the back of my neck.

"You okay?" he asked once I was done.

I sat back, sitting against the base of the motel's bathtub. My breath was shaky and so was my body. "I think I will be."

He stood by the sink and stared down at me. "What'd you see?"

"You," I said quietly.

"What happened?" I looked up at him. I looked into his eyes and I felt the images from my vision flood his mind. He swore and his face twisted in disgust. "I'm sorry baby," he said, shaking his head.

I felt tears fill my eyes. "It's not your fault," I said, moving the towel from around my neck and putting it into the tub. "You didn't do that; they did."

He moved from the sink and sat down on the floor beside me. I could feel his emotions rolling off him in waves. There was anger and pain and confusion, mixed with disgust and horror and a sympathy he felt only for me and for me having seen such a horrible and disturbing thing. I was the one crying, but it was his pain I felt.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, resting my forehead against the side of his head. He put his hand on my arm, keeping it there and petting it. "I'm sorry, baby," he said again, his voice sounding tight and choked. Then I saw the tears form in his eyes.

I kissed the side of his head again and hugged him tighter. "Don't be," I said, my tears falling from my eyes. "None of that was your fault, and it's not your fault that I see it."

"No, but you don't just see it; you gotta' feel it, too."

"I don't care about how it feels, the pain goes away. What I worry about is you."

"I'm right here. No one's hurtin' me anymore, there's nothing for you to worry about," he said. "You hear me? I'm fine."

"Liar," I said, tears running down my cheeks.

He let out a deep breath, calming his breathing and his voice. "I'm _gonna'_ be fine."

"Logan?"

"Yeah?"

"I think it's time to stop running. Let's go home," I whispered.

"You sure?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so."

He pulled me down to him and gave me a kiss on my forehead. "Okay, let's go," he said, pulling me into his arms. I fell into his touch and let out a sigh.

I was done crying. For then.

"I love you," I said.

"Right back at'cha, kid."


	2. Homecoming

Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I really don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox or the title of this song. Because if I did own Fox, X3 _so_ wouldn't have happened. Except for the half naked Logan parts, those I would keep.

Side notes: Thanks again to the wonderful Rowena DeVandal for being my beta reader. You have no idea what horror she has saved you from.

* * *

The long drive home was fairly quiet. We both had a lot on our minds. My vision, his broken memories, and what returning home meant for both of us. He had someone to go home to, Marie would be waiting for him, and I wondered if anyone would be waiting for me.

Aside from Hank.

I loved Hank, after Logan, he was the first person I had allowed myself to get close to. He was one of my best friends and I genuinely loved him. He was smart and sweet and hilarious. But he was just my friend. My heart had a special place for him, but my heart didn't _belong_ to him.

It belonged to Scott Summers. A man who sent my heart into overdrive just by smiling at me. He made my knees go weak with an innocent touch. He set my cheeks on fire with just simple words. He had been the one who had come to my house the year before to invite me to the school. He had sat across from me in my parent's dining room, charming them. Wooing them. Convincing them that I belonged at the school. All the while he was really charming and wooing me. And from the moment I had arrived at the mansion, he had gone out of his way to convince _me_ that I belonged there.

But did he feel the same love for me that I felt for him?

I didn't know. I'm clairvoyant; I can sense and read people's emotions. That was my mutation. And yet Scott had built up such a resistance from living in a house full of psychics and telepaths that it was hard for me to get a lock on him. He didn't allow me to see anything he wasn't willing to show me himself. He had shared a lot with me, allowing me to see the lake he visited often after Jean's death to grieve by himself. He let me in on his pain and allowed for me to see how he still hurt. He told me that I meant a lot to him, but he never said _how_ much.

I had never felt anything as powerful as what I felt for him. Something so strong and right inside of me that I felt it would burst out or kill me one. It was something I couldn't fight or ignore, and everyone saw it written clearly on my face. Like red paint made of blood from my own heart had painted my feelings for everyone to see.

Except him.

And then I had my vision. I saw myself beaten and raped by strange men, all full of a terrible rage that contaminated my own soul, to the point that I had stopped desiring touch. In my vision, I had refused to let anyone touch me except Logan, and I had hated the way Scott would even speak to me. I hated not being able to see his eyes, see where they were roaming. I wanted nothing more than for him to see me as an ugly monster and to leave me alone.

It had been three weeks since waking from my vision and my heart and mind were torn somewhere between being in love with Scott and needing for him to feel the same way, and being scared of him and hoping he never felt the same as me.

I was confused to say the least. But I hadn't seen or spoken to him since my last day at the mansion and I wondered how I would feel when I actually _saw_ him. A part of my heart soared thinking about it. The idea of being able to see his beautiful face again. My mind created images of how happy he would be to see me.

But then again, another part of my heart stayed grounded, scared of my powerful and overwhelming emotions. I was scared of how much I wanted him while also wanting to push him away, all at the same time. My mind didn't fail in conjuring up images of being afraid for him to touch me. It didn't hesitate in bringing back the memories of my vision and how desperately I wanted to just leave him behind. Leave him behind and run away somewhere with Logan. He was supposed to be the man I was in love with, but every time I came near death, all too many times, he wasn't the person on my mind. He was no where near my thoughts.

I was scared and confused and the trip home served as a catalyst for all my breaking emotions, so that by the time we pulled up to the large wrought iron gates boasting the 'X' emblem of the school, I felt like breaking apart.

_Maybe we came home too soon. Maybe I'm not ready for this yet_, I thought as I stared up at the mansion.

"You'll be fine," Logan said in a low voice.

"I didn't say anything."

He looked over at me. "Doesn't mean I didn't hear it."

"You really think I'll be fine?"

"You always are."

Walking into the school was like having hundreds of people throwing tiny little stones at me. The energy that I felt pulsing through the walls hit me all at once and made my skin sting as it ran through me. I was a conduit for energy and it was like going into overdrive. Hundreds of different thoughts and emotions ran through me all at once. I just let it go, and after a few minutes it was all over and the only thing remaining from the attack was the constant buzz of noise I heard in the back of my mind at all times.

The halls were empty; everyone was asleep. It was seven o'clock on a Sunday morning and I didn't blame them for sleeping in. I just envied them.

I walked behind Logan as he climbed the stairs that led to our floor. As worried as I had been about returning, it was nice to finally be back home. It was sort of a relief to finally stop running. Although I admittedly enjoyed living a somewhat nomadic lifestyle, and got quite anxious staying in one place for too long, sometimes it was nice to have a place to go home to. When I had first run away the year before, I didn't know if my parents would ever let me come back. I worried that maybe I was on my own. But at the mansion, the Professor was always willing to allow us to return. Charles Xavier was nothing short of a living saint in my eyes.

Logan walked me to my room and kissed me on my forehead before going to his room for a shower. I decided that that sounded like a good idea and to do the same. I smelled like cheap shampoo and motel soap and decided that that wasn't how I wanted everyone to see me on my first day back. I wanted to appear pulled together on the outside.

Even though I wasn't on the inside.

I grabbed some clean clothes from my wardrobe, went to my bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the water heat up. I looked at myself in the mirror and let out a deep sigh at what I saw. I had dark circles under my eyes from my lack of sleep that made my hazel eyes seem shallow and sunk in. My dark brown hair hung a few inches past my shoulders and managed to be flat and tangled at the same time. My face looked fuller because I had given up on my extreme diet and allowed myself to actually start eating again. I had forced myself to be as healthy as possible while Logan had started training me to fight and protect myself. I admittedly became obsessed with everything I ate. Then I had had my vision and saw myself die. When I woke up, I realized that we all die in the end and I might as well enjoy what time I had left.

Or at least try.

As I stared at myself in the mirror, I saw so much of my father staring back at me. So much of what I saw when looking into his eyes was reflected back at me in mine; a need to run and a want to find a place to stay for good. A need to find a reason to live, and something worth dying for. A sense of sadness and tiredness of having had seen more than your fair share of death. It was all there, in the mirror, in my eyes. And I wasn't entirely sure I hated it. It gave me a connection to him that nothing else could. I looked like him from the outside, but it was what shone from the inside that made me his.

I undressed and was about to step into the shower when a memory flashed across my mind. It was of the first time I had tried killing myself. Logan had gone on a mission to Brazil and I had had a vision while he was gone. I had seen him die and when the team returned the next day without him, I was forced to consider my vision had come true. After a week with no sign or contact from him, I thought he wasn't coming back. So I filled my tub with water and attempted to drown myself. In short, it didn't work, obviously. Logan and the Professor somehow kept me from dying. I didn't know what they had done to keep me from drowning, nor did I want to know. I didn't want to talk about it long enough to find out. It wasn't one of my prouder moments.

I shook my head. It wasn't time to reminisce; it was time to move forward. I was home, and I had to take control of my life and set it straight.

I stepped underneath the hot water and pulled the curtain closed. I turned my face up into the spray and tried to ignore the tugging at my mind that someone was in the bathroom with me. Ever since all but one of the men who had attempted to kidnap me had been killed, I had been on edge.

I was paranoid.

I was convinced people who weren't watching or following us actually where. When I would shower in motels, I left the door cracked so that I knew Logan was there and everything was okay. He knew that I had been nervous and had been more than understanding about the whole situation. He was my protector and made sure that he did his job well. But he never knew _how_ bad I got. The constant fear that haunted me was something I wasn't eager to let even him see to its full degree.

But I as home now, where I would be safe.

I heard a noise click and my eyes snapped open. I shut off the water and listened for any sign of movement. I didn't hear anything or anyone outside of the bathroom. I pulled back the shower curtain and concentrated harder. Then I realized the sound had only been from the air conditioner coming on.

I let out a deep, miserable sigh. I was going to be perfectly fine at home.

Right.

* * *

After my shower where I jumped and became paranoid with every sound I heard, I decided to try to calm myself down. I dressed in a clean pair of jeans, a black wife-beater and flip-flops before making my way outside. I thought a walk in the garden might help. And with the late summer's morning sun shining down one me from between the trees down and the light breeze blowing my damp hair behind me, I was right. I walked around the school's garden in as much silence as my mind would allow and I could physically feel myself beginning to calm down. The weight I had felt on my chest for the past three weeks began to life with each step I took. There was a lightness in me that had been missed terribly. I felt like myself again there, and I wondered how long that was going to last. I wondered how long it would take before I was faced with reality once again. I had felt so unsure and confused and scared. I was scared of everything and nothing all at once. And all of it had built up to the point it gave me a headache to even think of it. I hoped it would all just go away and leave me alone. But I knew better. I knew it wouldn't go away until I faced it head on and truly dealt with it. I also knew that once I _did_ decide to deal with it, it was going to come with a cost. It would break me and I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't prepared to do that yet. I just wanted to be happy. 

That's all I wanted.

I walked through the garden by myself for around ten minutes before I came upon the small clearing amidst the flowers that held the memorial for Jean Grey-Summers. I had never met her, she had died just before I had met Logan, but I had seen her in my visions. I had seen how Logan felt about her and it broke my heart to know that he had lost someone he loved so much. And it also hurt to see Scott in so much pain. Logan was my father, Scott was my friend, and I had to watch them both suffer the loss of a woman they both loved.

I walked closer to the memorial and saw a figure standing in front of it. The closer I walked, the better I could see who it was.

It was Scott.

I stopped, wondering if I should continue going and try not to disturb him, or go back and leave him in peace. I didn't get the chance to decide. He turned his head in time to see me just about to turn away.

And he smiled.

There was something about his smile that felt so welcoming. Something that felt inviting. Something that told me it was okay for me to go to him. So I did.

"Hey," he said gently, quietly.

"Hey," I said back, sticking my hands into my pockets. "I didn't mean to bother you. We just got back a little while ago and I thought I would walk around here for a while before everyone woke up."

He gave me another one of his brilliant smiles. "You're not bothering me," he said. I felt a blush creep across my cheeks. "I'm glad you're back home."

I gave him a small smile of my own. "Me too."

"How are the two of you doing?"

I shrugged with one of my shoulders and looked down at the grass. "I don't know, I think we're going to be okay. I hope so, anyway."

"I hope so, too."

"Well, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your time out here, I know this is your morning ritual, or whatever, I just forgot. My mind's all over the place lately. I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. I'm glad to see you." My blush came back to my cheeks with full force. "No one else really ever comes out here but me, maybe Logan every once in a while, but it's nice to have some company, though."

I nodded my head silently and looked at the stone standing erect in the midst of a hundred different flowers and I could feel a pain radiating off Scott that twisted like a knife in my heart. "She was beautiful," I said, almost without realizing it. It was meant to be more of a thought, but my mouth moved, relaying my thoughts to him.

I saw him looking at me from the corner of my eye. "Yeah, she was," he said. His voice was so serious, so somber, that it only made my heart hurt further. It wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him that it would be okay. But I didn't, because it wouldn't. He has lost his wife, his best friend, and the one person who knew him better than anyone else. A hug wasn't going to help.

I looked back at him. "Are _you_ going to be okay?"

He gave me a short, sad smile. "I'm getting there."

A few weeks back, Scott and I had made a promise to one another that if we ever needed each other, we would be there. No matter what time of day or night. And that if something was wrong, we would let the other know. I knew that I was the first person he had let his guard down around since Jean's death and that kind of honesty let me do the same.

"Were you planning on staying out here a little longer?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Do you mind if I join you for a while?"

I smiled. "No, I don't mind at all."

He turned back to the memorial and kissed his hand. Then he laid his palm down on the smooth stone surface. "Bye sweetheart," he whispered before stepping back in line with me. "Let's take a walk."

He led me away from Jean's section of the garden and back the way I had just walked. I didn't mind, though.

"So, did anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

"No, we waited on you for all of the interesting stuff. So it's a good thing you're back, I was starting to get bored." I smiled. "How did you and Logan get along while you were away?"

"We made it all the way to Ohio without killing each other, so pretty well." He laughed. "I missed everyone, though, so it's good to be back."

"_Everyone_?" he asked with a sly smile.

I let out a sigh. "Not everyone, but close enough."

"Have you seen her since you've been back?"

The 'her' he was referring to was Rogue. Scott knew that I didn't like or get along with her and he was one of the only people I could talk to about it.

"No, not yet. You're the only person I've seen today. I think everyone else is still asleep."

"Hank's up. He's been working in the lab non-stop since you left."

"Why?"

"Those men that you saw in your visions had some medical samples on them when we caught them. They were the ones they stole from Dr. McTaggert's lab. When we recovered them, she allowed Hank to keep small amount of the samples and then we sent the rest of it back. He's been studying them since then."

Dr. McTaggart was a friend of the Professor's that had a lab in Glasgow, where she lived. Earlier in the year, it had been broken into and some samples were stolen. Logan went on the mission to try to get the samples back. What happened while on the mission led to the events of the eleven men planning to kidnap me. But the samples they had included one that was meant to retard mutations and make them slower. It was meant to help Rogue so that she could be able to touch people without killing them or putting them into a coma. The men had used the samples and put them into collars. In my vision, they had used the collars to keep Logan and me from using our powers. Logan had almost died before I had been able to get his off. I hadn't been so concerned with taking my own off and had paid for it later by having my mutant gene permanently eradicated. I personally wasn't the biggest fan of anyone experimenting with something powerful and permanent.

"Has he been able to figure out anything about them?"

"Not yet, but he's still working. With him _and_ Dr. McTaggart working on it, they really might be able to come up with something. This could have a huge effect of mutants everywhere."

"Is that a good thing?"

"It could be. There are a lot of mutants who are putting other people in danger with their mutations. If they could figure out a way to get this compound to lower the levels of the mutant gene, those mutants may be able to learn to control their powers."

"Or lose them altogether, which is more devastating than you can imagine."

"It's also devastating to have to put up a wall, literally or figuratively, between you and the people you love to protect them from a mutation you don't understand."

"Are you speaking from experience or sympathy?"

He looked over at me. "A lot of people have it worse than me, but it gets frustrating to have to view everything through red glasses. To never be able to take them off for good, unless I wanted to blast a hole through someone."

"That would definitely put a damper in anyone's day, I admit," I said and he laughed. "Do you think you could be happy if you weren't a mutant, though?"

"No, I don't think I could be. It's too much a part of who I am. I've known that I was a mutant since I was teenager and I've lived here with other mutants since then. The Professor took me in and taught me everything I know, and when I go older, he trusted me to teach his students, other mutants, and to lead the X-Men. There's nothing in my life that doesn't somehow revolve around being a mutant. It's not something I want to give up, but to have some sort of a…reprieve would be nice and welcomed."

"My daddy always told me when I was growing up that the ones who go through the most are the strongest. Obstacles only serve to make them stronger, even if they don't see it. The Professor made you the team's leader for a reason, Scott. Being a mutant, dealing with your powers, it made you a strong person. I knew that from the very first time I saw you."

"Standing in your living room?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "I had seen you before then. I never knew who you were, but I saw you."

"Is that weird?"

"What?"

"Seeing someone in a vision and then meeting them in real life."

"Yeah, very weird. I've always known that they were real, that they weren't dreams, and that all of the people I saw existed somewhere at some time. But it's sort of like…watching a movie and seeing the stars, and then meeting the actors or something. You know the people are real, you've seen them, but for them to be there, right in front of your own eyes is something that's mind boggling to begin with. To have the transition between real in a vision and real and tangible, _touchable_, it takes a while to adjust to."

"But you've been able to do that pretty well, haven't you?"

"No, it still sort of freaks me out a little bit," I said with a small laugh.

"Really?"

"The first people I ever met after seeing them in a vision were my parents. I was at the orphanage and saw that they were going to be there the next day, which they were. But that was it. For fourteen years, I didn't meet anyone else that I saw. Then I met Logan and…I don't know. When I met him, I had been sleeping in parking garages for two weeks on my own and living like a homeless person. I had a horrible cut on the back of my head and lost a lot of blood. Maybe the whole situation was odd; not just meeting him."

He smiled. "That's generally not how most kids meet their parents for the first time, I agree," he said. "But how did you know you could trust him just because you had seen him?"

"I didn't. Not really. I didn't _know_ anything, I still don't, I just…trusted him. I don't know how to explain it, it's just something I felt in my gut, I felt it was right. I couldn't let it go."

"Do you think it all worked out for the best?"

"It led me here."

He smiled at me. "I'd say it worked out for the best then."

* * *

"Coffee break?" Scott asked as we walked into the kitchen. It took me a few seconds to realize he wasn't talking to me. 

"Yes, I thought it was about time for a break and more caffeine. I start getting sloppy when my actions become repetitive, I'm afraid," Hank said. His back was turned to the both of us as he went about making his coffee. "How has your day been so far? I bet the garden was beautiful this morning."

Scott and I had stayed out walking for around half an hour, just talking, before deciding to go in for breakfast.

"It was," Scott said, looking over at me. I felt my cheeks burn hot and smiled at him. He smiled back. "I found something quite interesting out there, too."

"And what would that be?" Hank asked, turning around with curiosity. "Jayden!" his distinctly dignified voice bellowed, sounding genuinely happy. He abandoned his coffee making and came to where I was standing. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him, and he responded by lifting my feet a good five inches from the floor as he hugged me back.

"I missed you, Hank," I said, hugging his blue, furry neck.

"I missed you, too, sweetheart. I'm very glad that you're back."

"Me, too," I said as he sat my feet back to the floor.

He smiled, showing his fanged teeth. "Have you had breakfast?"

I smiled back at him. "No, not yet."

"Well then, what shall we make?"

"Don't you have work to do in the lab?"

"Nothing that won't wait until another time. Now, what shall we have for breakfast?"

I watched Hank as he began making chocolate chip pancakes for me and sat with Scott, drinking coffee, while the rest of the staff slowly made their way into the kitchen. Bobby Drake was first, but he only stayed long enough to grab a granola bar before going outside to play basket ball with some of the students.

Then Professor Xavier came in and welcomed me back.

Storm wasn't too far behind him. While I had never had any problems with Ororo, she had never been quite as friendly and welcoming of me as the rest of the staff. She hadn't made much of an effort to acknowledge my being there or made any attempts to befriend me. Hank had told me that she had changed since Jean's death. She wasn't the same person since having her best friend die. I understood and respected that, and had come to expect her slightly withdrawn nature around me. It had never been a problem.

Until that morning.

The look that flashed in her eyes when she first saw me was something I had never seen from her. The usually docile and easy going Ororo shot daggers my way, if only for a moment, before getting her emotions in check.

Why was she so angry with me?

"Good morning, Jayden. It's nice to see you back," she said, pouring herself a cup of coffee.

I adjusted myself in my seat next to Scott and tried to pull myself together. Although the look in her eyes was gone, I could still feel the sting of her angry energy hitting me like bricks. "Thanks," I replied with a weak smile. My head was pounding with the sudden amount of new energy in the room and that was all I could manage.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, putting his hand on my shoulder.

My heart began to hammer and I fought for control. "Yeah, it's just a headache," I said.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw an image of Jean flood my mind. She and Scott, as well as the rest of the school, were at a museum.

"_Jean, is everything okay?_" Scott asked an obviously distraught Jean.

"_Yeah, I just have a bit of a headache._"

"_It's not just a headache, is it?_"

My mind released the images, allowing my memory to return to Scott.

I blinked a few times to try to clear my mind. "Sorry," I apologized.

He cocked his head to the side and his eyebrow rose over the top of his glasses. "For what?"

"You didn't feel that?"

"Feel what?"

I shook my head. "Nothing, never mind. I thought I…hurt you. Sorry, just never mind."

My mutation had seemed a bit off since Logan and I had left. My mind was grabbing hold of passing images and thoughts from people's minds and playing them for me. I was feeling energy in different, stronger ways. I understood that my powers weren't fully developed, I was still young and realizing all I could do, but there was something different about it that morning. Things seemed elevated, heightened somehow. And I wasn't enjoying it very much.

Just as Hank was as Hank was serving me my plate of pancakes, Logan and Rogue walked in together. An anger welling up inside of me at the sight of them. Anger I hadn't quite yet understood.

But she smiled at me. Then Logan gave me a look that said, _Be Nice_.

I shot him a look that said, _Bite me_. But I gave in and smiled back at her. It wasn't really her fault that I hated her.

Breakfast was the same as always, and being at home was like we had never left at all. Our three weeks away meant nothing once we were all back together. I had only known them for less than a year, and yet they had become my family.

I ate at the table, sitting between Scott and Logan, while attempting to avoid the looks I could feel coming from Storm, aimed at me, and the looks from Rogue I could see aimed at Logan. All the while Hank sang some old Dean Martin while the Professor hummed along with him.

It was good to be back home.

* * *

I was in a room, sitting on a cold concrete floor, facing a man named Josh. The same one who had tried drowning me. Two younger, but bigger, men held me down, and I watched as Josh pulled a knife from his pocket. 

"_This is going to hurt_," he said. His voice was calm and even. "_And you're going to want to scream. But you won't, will you? You're just going to sit there and take it. And when we're doing, it won't matter what you say or don't say, we'll all know what you are. And you'll know that you chose to let us do this to you, you wanted us to. All for an old man who's just going to die anyway._"

Then he took the knife, pressed it into my forehead, and began to cut into my skin.

I woke with a gasp, sitting up straight in my bed. I wiped away the sweat from my brow and tried to catch my breath as I looked around my room, grounding myself back in reality. It was my first night back at home and I wasn't faring much better there than out on the road. I felt a sickness in the pit of my stomach that just set there. It took me a few seconds before I realized I was shaking.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself. But I didn't want to stay there on my own. So I got up.

I pulled the two pillows from my bed and left my room. I made my way down the hall with a learned silence, not making a sound as I walked down the few doors to Logan's room. I didn't bother knocking; he was awake and he knew I was coming. I opened his door and saw him sitting in one of the chairs in his room, smoking a cigar in the dark.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just another dream," I said quietly.

"Was it a bad one?"

"Not too bad."

"Think you can get back to sleep?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Lie down and try. I'll be right here if you need me."

I walked to his bed and sat on the edge of it, facing him in the dark. "When is this going to stop?"

"I wish I knew darlin'."

"I can't handle it if it goes on for much longer. I'm just so physically and mentally exhausted," I said, pulled my knees up to my chest. I wrapped my arms around them and hugged them close to me.

"We can talk to Chuck about it in the mornin' if you want? He might be able to put a block in your mind or something to stop 'em."

I nodded. "I hate that that's even an option, but I might have to. This is killing me."

"I know, just hang on a little longer." I let out a quivering sigh. "Go to sleep, baby. I'm right here."

I lay down in Logan's bed, but didn't go to sleep. Not right away. I just lay there, watching him as he watched me. I had survived eighteen years of my life without him, never knowing who he was, never caring much. Yet I lay there wondering how I had possibly made it that long. Since I had met him, even before I knew who he was, I felt I needed him. And I had hated us both for that. I didn't _want _to need him. But I did, and despite his gruff exterior, I came to love the man inside. I felt so alive and connected when I was with him. Knowing him for those two months would have been worth all of the pain I had gone through. But he didn't just leave me. He came for me, he promised he wouldn't leave me again, and he told me he would always take care of me. And he had yet to lie to me about either one. He had _always_ come back and he had _always_ taken care of me. So how had I made it that long without him?

"Goodnight Logan," I mumbled.

"Night Jayden."

"I love you."

"Right back at'cha, kid."

We were home. Even if I was still paranoid and having nightmares, I knew I was safe. Everything was going to be fine, I just had to make it over this one little bump in the road and then everything else would be easy driving.

Everything would be okay.

_I_ was going to be okay.


	3. Perfect Girl

Disclaimer: Same as always; I don't own anything, I'm not making any money of anything.

Author's Notes: Thanks again to Rowena DeVandal for being my beta reader. I hope you feel better soon! Enjoy the chapter, ya'll and let me know if this is working or not.

* * *

"Mission: Failed," the computer's voice said loudly.

I swore and kicked my foot at a rock that disappeared as the images were swept away as the room returned to its natural form.

"So you failed, you haven't been in here in almost a month; you're gonna' be a little rusty."

I stared at Logan standing against the cold backdrop of the Danger Room, where we had just run three training sessions. All of which I had failed. We had been home for nearly a week when I decided to start my training again.

I cracked my knuckles though the worn leather gloves of my uniform. "I want to run it again."

"No. You've done it three times already; you're done for today." He turned and started walking towards the exit. "Let's get something to eat. You can try again tomorrow."

"I failed it. I want to do it over. _Now_."

He stopped and turned back to me. His eyebrow was arched high on his forehead. "Excuse me?"

"I said I want to do it one more time. I failed _today_, so I'm going to make up for it. _Today_."

He walked back to where I was standing and put his hand on my shoulder. "No," he said simply.

"Why?"

"Because I said so."

I rolled my eyes. "That is so lame, dude. I want a reason; not an excuse."

"How 'bout 'cause I said so and you've done it three times already. You need a break."

"No I don't, I'm fine. I just need to get it right."

"Why? You've failed 'em before. It's just a test, it's trainin', it ain't the real thing."

"Exactly. It's preparing us _for_ the real thing. And I don't want to be in a real situation and screw up."

"Everyone screws up every once in a while, darlin'. _Everyone_."

"Not when it counts. Not when someone needs you. You can't screw up, not then."

"Yeah, sometimes we do. We're humans."

"No, that's the thing, Logan; we're _not_ humans. We're mutants; we're supposed to be better. There's not reason for us to screw up when it's important."

"Yeah there is."

"What?"

"Human or mutant, we're not perfect. We're gonna' slip and make mistakes. But you're takin' this too far."

"How?"

"'Cause you're nineteen, you got a lotta' life to live and it's gonna' go easier the sooner you can realize we ain't always gonna' be able to do everything just right. Makin' mistakes is a part of life, it's what shows us that we're alive," he said, then started walking towards the exit again. "Besides, if we didn't make mistakes, we wouldn't have anything to regret for the rest of our lives."

I rolled my eyes and fell in step behind him. "Have I mentioned lately that you're a jackass?" I asked, moving to walk alongside him.

He looked over at me and smirked. "Not in the last thirty minutes, no."

"Well then, you're long overdue," I said, taking the lead and reaching the exit before him. Before leaving, I called back over my shoulder to him, "Jackass."

* * *

"Good afternoon Miss Rivers, how may I help you?" Hank asked as I walked into his lab.

After Logan's and my training session in the Danger Room, we had meditated for thirty minutes before I went to my room to shower. Then I got dressed and decided to go see if Hank needed any help.

"Well, Dr. McCoy, I came to see if you needed any sort of assisting?"

He smiled at me. "Ah, yes, classes are due to start this Monday and we'll be making smoke bombs in chemistry class. So if you could check to make sure that I have the proper amounts of potassium nitrate and sugar, you would be doing me a very large favor."

"Can do, Hank," I said and began rummaging through the shelves of the lab. He had certain ones reserved for his materials he used in his classes, which I had been allowed to help in before they had taken a break for the summer. "You know, I took chemistry in high school and I never once got to make a smoke bomb."

"Well perhaps you can join us on Monday and make one for yourself?"

"I can't. I start my college classes on Monday, too. Maybe you could show me another day?" I looked over at where he was sitting at his desk, going through piles of papers filled with his own notes.

"Absolutely. It's quite easy, I assure you. You just mix sixty percent potassium nitrate with forty percent sugar, and then shake them up in a tight container before pouring it into a pot. You then heat it slowly over a low temperature and as you stir it, you melt it altogether. Once it looks like peanut butter, you're done. You scoop some out, insert a safety fuse, and let it cool and harden for about five minutes. And then you have a smoke bomb." He looked up at me from his notes and smiled. "Of course you must light the fuse first in order to get the smoke, but you get the point. They're extremely easy to make."

"So says the scientist," I said with a laugh and continued my search.

"And I will be in good company soon enough, yes?"

"I hope so."

I intended to go to college to become a forensics scientist. But my first year alone had me taking Intro Chemistry, Pre-Calculus math, Social Science, actual Calculus, and Principles of Biology, among other things. I was sure that I would do fine with chemistry, biology and social science. Hank had taught me a lot since I had met him and I knew that if I ever got stuck, he would be able to help me. It was the math I was dreading. Although I had never failed any of my math classes in school, I had never been very good at it. I was going to need more help with my calculus homework than anything else; I was sure of it.

"Hank, can I ask you a question?"

"Absolutely."

"Is there something wrong with me?"

"Not to my knowledge, no. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I mean, I know I have a problem with needing to control everything, you know that, and I'm really trying to work on it. But when it comes to important stuff, is it wrong of me to want to be perfect in it?"

"Are you speaking in general or of something specifically important?"

"I failed my simulated mission in the Danger Room three times and I wanted to do it over until I got it right. But Logan told me no. I was just wondering if my some slim, hardly even counting chance, he may have been right?"

I heard him let out a chuckle as I found the potassium nitrate and sugar I had been looking for. "I think perhaps this time he may have been right."

"Traitor," I muttered and he laughed once again. I walked to where he was sitting at his desk and sat down in the chair across from him. "Why do you think he's right?"

He looked at me from over the top of his glasses that sat perched on the end of his nose. "Because there's a very big difference between trying to do your best and trying to be perfect. I believe Logan only wants you to learn that you can't be perfect, but to always do your best."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what it was. It has nothing to do with the fact that as soon as we were done meditating he just happened to bump into Rogue. He just had my best interest in mind when that happened, right?" I asked sarcastically.

He smiled at me. "I'm sure it was all just a coincidence. Logan's not a psychic after all."

"I wonder sometimes."

"May I ask why it is exactly that you dislike Rogue so much?"

"I don't know. I just don't."

"Is it simply because she takes him away from spending time with you?"

I shrugged. "Maybe."

"Because she's never been rude to you, has she?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "No. As a matter of a fact, she's been disgustingly nice to me ever since we met."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know, okay? I just…I don't know."

"Is it perhaps that you feel if Logan has Rogue, he won't need you and that you blame her for that?"

I crossed my arms and let out a huffed breath. "Maybe." I looked up at him. "Now I'm starting to wonder if _you're_ a psychic."

He smiled. "Not quite. Just a psychiatrist."

"Should I lie down on the couch then, doc?"

He laughed. "No need." I ran my fingers back through my damp hair as he looked at me more seriously. "You know that no matter what, Logan will never love you any less? No matter who's in his life. You don't know that, don't you?"

"Yeah," I said. "But…I don't know. It's just hard sometimes to believe it, even if I know it's true, you know? It's like when you're little and logically you know that there's not a monster under you bed, but you're still scared anyway. It's a fear you can't always stop just because someone tells you it's not there."

"But do you believe that you should be angry with her for that?"

"No, but I am," I said. "And why do you always have to be so reasonable? Can't you ever just let me be angry and sulk?"

He smiled at me once again, his white teeth a stark contrast against the blue of his skin. "No, I'm afraid not. I've told you before; you're far too beautiful to be angry."

I smiled despite my best effort not to. "You are a very sweet man, Hank McCoy."

He picked my hand up and kissed it. "And you are a very kind young woman."

"When I'm not hating people for not good reason at least," I said with a smile.

He smiled back. "Precisely."

I looked around at his cluttered desk. "Are you sure you don't need any help straightening up or anything?" I asked after a moment of silence.

"No, but do you know what I _do_ need?"

I shook my head. "No, what?"

"Twinkies," he said, smiled.

"Sounds good to me."

Hank and I left the lab for the kitchen in search of Twinkies, which we found in the freezer. And then he made us both cups of hot chocolate.

"Are you excited about starting college on Monday?" he asked while we were sitting at the table in the kitchen.

"Yeah, but I'm nervous, too."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I'm just worried I won't be able to catch on to everything."

"Like what?"

"Like everything. This is for _really_ smart people, Hank. Scientists are geniuses for a reason. I just don't know if I'll be able to do it."

"I'm sure you will. You're a very intelligent person, you catch on quite quickly, and I have no doubt that you'll do well," he said with a warm smile.

"I hope so, but we'll see," I said just as Scott walked into the room. I felt a small flush ascend my cheeks and the sight of him and hoped he couldn't see it through his glasses.

He gave me a small smile. "You have a phone call, Jayden," he said, handing me the phone.

It was my mother. I hadn't spoken much to her in the past few months. She had wanted me to go home at the end of spring and I had refused, opting to stay and go to college there instead. She and my father showed up a few days later, intending to 'talk some sense' into me, and I had made a huge decision to stand up to my mother for the first time in my life. I had been a good child, avoiding all controversy and giving in to who they wanted me to be. But that day I decided I couldn't be that person anymore. So I told her that I was staying because I was an adult and was going to make my own decisions. And then I confessed to them that the man I had ran away from home to find was Logan. Then I told them that he was my father.

That was one of the last times I had spoken to them.

My mother and I exchanged hellos and asked how the other was doing before she finally got around to the point of her phone call.

"Karen Miller is getting married in October and she wanted to know if you could make it to the wedding, and if you can, she would also like you to be a bride's maid."

Karen Miller was a girl I had gone to school and had been 'friends' with since I was ten.

"When in October?"

"The third Friday. You'll have to check what date that is, because I've forgotten."

"Uh, yeah, I should be able to. I get that week in October off for fall break, so unless something happens, there's no reason why I wouldn't be able to be there."

"And you can be a bride's maid, too?"

"Yeah, I guess so. If she really wants me to."

Okay, do you want to call and tell her or should I?"

"If you would, I'd appreciate it. I have to get everything together before Monday, and I don't know if I have enough time."

"What's Monday?"

"Oh, it's when I start school."

"So you're going?"

"Yeah, someone volunteered to pay for my first year's tuition and Dr. McCoy got me into a college not too far from here."

The 'someone' who had volunteered was a man named Dr. Lewis. He was a friend of my parent's and a psychiatrist. When I had come back from Canada the year before, they insisted that I go and see him. After explaining everything that had happened while I was gone and why I had left in the first place, he told my parents I wasn't crazy. Then the Professor got in touch with him and together they were the ones who went to my parents with the idea of me moving to Xavier's.

"Well, good for you. I'm glad."

"Mom, look, I'm…I'm really sorry if I hurt you or dad. I didn't mean to. That was honestly not my intention, I promise, and I apologize if either, or both of you, were hurt or got mad at me. This is just something I have to do, this is where I'm choosing to go with my life right now and I don't regret making this decision. But I regret handling it how I did. I didn't know how else to handle it and that was wrong, so I'm sorry if anything I did hurt you."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Thank you. I appreciate that. Your father and I understand that you're an adult and that you're capable of making your own decisions, but that doesn't make it any easier. You're our daughter, you're our baby, and we're always going to be worried about you and want you here with us."

"I know and I'm sorry. But this is where I have to be right now."

"I don't agree with that, but I respect it."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said. "So we'll see you in October?"

I smiled, even though I knew she couldn't see me. "Yeah, I'll see you then."

"I love you, Jayden."

"I love you, too, mom. Bye," I said before hanging up. I handed the phone back to Scott. "Thank you."

"No problem," he said. "Are you going back home sometime soon?"

"Yeah, in October. A friend of mine is getting married and she wants me to be in the wedding, so I said I would be."

"You don't sound too happy about it."

"I'm not really."

"You don't want to be in your friend's wedding?" Hank asked.

"She wasn't really one of my friends. I mean, I hung out with her and stuff, but I was never really close to her. My parents just wanted me to be because she was a cheerleader."

"Which they wanted you to be, right?" Scott asked.

I let out a sigh. "Unfortunately, yes."

"Were you ever one?" Hank asked.

I shot him a look. "Do I look like a freakin' cheerleader?"

"Well…I'm not quite certain how cheerleaders really 'look' exactly, so I'm not sure…" he said. "Although you do have the physicality and agility that would be needed to be one, I'm sure."

Scott laughed. "Would it be so bad if you were one, though?"

"Have you ever been around cheerleaders?"

"Yes."

"And did you want to chew your own arm off just so you could beat them to death with it?"

"Uh…no, I can't say that I ever did."

"Yes, well, I did and so yeah; it _would_ be that bad if I were one."

Scott laughed again and despite myself, I smiled. He had that effect on me.

* * *

Death.

It's the one thing none of us can escape. We all die in the end. From the moment we're born, we're dying.

Death has many forms. Sometimes she comes as a whisper in the night when we're old and sleeping. Other times she comes without notice, leaving the ones we loved stunned and hurting in her wake.

But there is no escape. None. Our only saving grace is that we never truly know when our time will come. We never get the chance to see how we'll die. To look death straight in the eye and see how our own story ends.

Except for me.

I saw my own death. I saw how I was going to die.

And it scared me.

I woke gasping for breath and shaking. I wiped the sweat from my brow and tried to calm myself and my breathing, but I felt as if I couldn't get a good breath and hold it. I felt a pressure in the middle of my chest, like there was a weight sitting on it. I had been having that problem for a while, and it was starting to get irritating.

I debated getting out of bed or trying to go back to sleep on my own. It was raining outside and the wind was blowing, which caused a tree branch to scratch against my window pane and my heart jumped.

I couldn't stay by myself; I was too paranoid.

I grabbed my pillows and left my room for the comfort of Logan's. He was asleep, sprawled out on his back and twisted in his sheets. Although he looked peaceful, I could tell that he had been having nightmares, too.

I walked to him carefully and reached out my still shaking hand. I gently shook his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked at me.

"You all right?" he asked, sitting up. I shook my head and felt the tears running down my cheeks before I realized I was crying. "C'mere." I fell into his arms and buried my face into his shoulder. "It's okay, baby, I got you, I'm right here." He just held me and stroked my hair, kissing my forehead and telling me that everything was okay.

I wondered how a man who was still so incredibly lost himself could manage to save me. I wondered how he had always been able to pull me out of the storm. How could he just hold me in his arms and make the entire world and all the pain along with it fade and disappear. I wondered how when I came to him broken, scared and vulnerable, he always knew how to put me back together. He knew the right words to calm my fears.

"Why do people have to die, Logan? Why do _we_ have to die?" I asked quietly as he continued to hold me.

"'Cause it's the price we pay for getting' to live," he said. "But you ain't got anything to worry about, darlin'. You're gonna' be safe here with me."

I fell asleep that night in my father's arms, feeling safe and loved. Just like he said I would. And as I hummed the same song I hummed every night to go to sleep, I wondered how a man so full of his own demons could take the time to sooth the ones of a nineteen year old girl.

* * *

"How was school?" Logan asked as I stopped behind him. He was outside watching some of the students go through an obstacle course.

"Tough and too long," I answered with a sigh. I had started my classes two and half weeks before and they had yet to get any easier.

He turned his head to look at me. "You'll get it."

"I hope so."

"Wanna' get out there and run the course? Might make you feel better."

I laughed. "I think I'll pass."

He gave me a small smile. "Your loss, darlin'."

"I'm not quite sure what crawling through a tunnel of tires has to do with self defense," I said, watching a kid get stuck between two of the tires, unable to move.

"Nothing. Hank said the kids needed more than just self defense, so me and Summers set up the obstacle course. They're gettin' more exercise, Hank's happy, Chuck's happy, we're all good."

I laughed. "Sounds great. Do you need me to help you do anything?"

"No. All I gotta' do is stand here and watch and make sure they don't kill themselves," he said. "You can go on."

"Okay, I'm going to go eat some ice cream and try to get started on my homework. I'll see you when you get done," I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you, furry-face."

"Right back at'cha, kid," he said. As I was walking back towards the mansion, I heard him yelling behind me. "You're supposed to crawl _under_ the ropes, Jones! Start over!"

I laughed to myself as I left him behind to deal with his students while I intended to make my way to the kitchen.

I walked back into the house and felt the energy of the school pulse around me. The first time I had ever been in the mansion, all of the students were out and everything had been silent. But even then I could feel that something was missing. It was still hard for me to get used to all of the noise from the two hundred and some odd students, but I preferred the noise to the silence. It was something I had trouble coming to grips with, I had had to deal with noise inside my head for as long as I could remember, but once I got a small taste of the silence, I hated it. Noise is natural; it's the sound of life. But silence is maddening.

I walked past Storm's class room, giving it a quick glance. Although I hadn't caught her staring at me like she wanted to drop a bolt of lightening on my head since my first day home, I was still getting some bad vibes off her. I had done something without realizing it that had pissed her off, and pissed her off bad. If I could figure out what it was, I could apologize for it, but I couldn't think of any possible reason for her to be so mad at me. I had no idea what I had done.

I kept walking, thinking about the pint of Ben and Jerry's Half Baked in the freezer calling my name. When I finally realized where I was, I was standing outside of Scott's classroom where he was teaching the basics of mechanics. I stopped and peered through the window at the top of the door. I only meant to stay there for a moment, only watch him for a second, and then move on. But I found myself unable to move. I stood there for probably ten minutes or more, watching him teach the students about basic principles of breaking down an automatic engine. He was in the middle of saying something about a radiator hose when he saw me. He paused for a second and gave me a smile before continuing on with his lesson. I felt my cheeks blush and gave him an apologetic smile with half a shrug. He had caught me staring, but for whatever reason, he didn't seem to mind and I figured I had already embarrassed myself enough without standing around to figure out why that was.

I finally made my way to the kitchen and dug my pint of Ben and Jerry's from the back of the freezer. I could still feel the blood flushing hot in my cheeks and the cold air felt good on my face. I stayed there until I felt the temperature right itself, then I grabbed a spoon, sat at the table and turned on the TV hanging in the corner of the wall. The news was on and they were talking about the weather. I wasn't very interested in what they were saying, but I did better when I studied with the TV on. It helped to balance out the noise in my head and allowed me to focus. So with the weatherman giving an incredibly inaccurate forecast, I pulled out my Intro to Chemistry text book and attempted to start the first four chapters I had to read that day. I was simultaneously reading and eating, about midway through both when a story on the news caught my attention.

"Eighteen year old Ashley Manning was reported missing from her home in Camrose, Alberta, Canada two weeks ago and today her body was found in a wooded area not too far from where she lived. Two women out for a morning hike found Manning's body and alerted police on their cell phone. Manning's murder is the third in a string of murders where the victim's eyes were removed before they were strangled to death. The authorities are now calling them the Blind Man Murders and are currently working to find a suspect. If you, or anyone you know, may have any information regarding the murders, please contact your local police or news station. Thank you."

My stomach churned at the news and I shook my head. I hated watching the news; it was so depressing. But I hated it even more when there were stories of girls my age. It made it more personal and a little all too painful for me. When I had run away from home, there was about four weeks altogether where I had been on my own. Some I had spent hitch hiking to get where I needed to be and looking back, I had put myself in some situations that were potentially extremely dangerous. I entrusted my safety to strangers whom I had never met. I made my way from town to town, all on my own, all by myself, with no one to protect me. And yet I had survived. I had been fortunate enough to go home safely. But others weren't always so lucky. They were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. And they had to pay for it with their lives. We all die, that's a fact of life that's undisputable. But to die simply because some psycho murderer got their jollies from cutting some poor girl's eyes out before killing them was just disgusting and wrong.

I changed the channel to some day time talk show where the host was giving her guests makeovers. It wasn't very entertaining and it was less informative than the news, but it also wasn't half as depressing. I tried to go back to reading, but I couldn't focus. The story from the news had me shaken for some reason. Perhaps it was because I felt that she could have been me, had any of my situations been different. I wasn't sure. All I knew was that the story of the murder was one that wasn't going to leave me for a long while, if ever. My mind tended to be a sponge for that type of information, despite how much I hated it.

Fifteen minutes later, I was still having a difficult time concentrating and I could hear someone coming down the hall. By the sound of the footsteps, I could tell it was Hank. But before he ever entered the room, I could smell him.

"Is there a reason why you smell like tomato soup?" I asked looking up as he walked in. "And why is your fur _purple_?"

"We had a bit of a problem in chemistry class, I'm afraid. We were making stink bombs and one of them went off prematurely right in a student's and my face. The only way I could think of to combat and eliminate the odor was to bathe in tomato juice. Unfortunately it only managed to replace the smell for me and seems to have temporarily dyed my fur. Nothing apple vinegar won't get out," he said. "But for now, my classes are over for today." He gave me a smile. "How was school for you?"

"I didn't have a stink bomb explode in my face."

He laughed. "Yes, well, it's always best to avoid it whenever possible. Anything else?"

I shrugged, pushing my text book away and decided to concentrate solely on my ice cream. "Some stupid boy wouldn't leave me alone. We get like, forty-five minutes between two of our classes in the morning, so we go over to that deli across the street for lunch and this guy from my calculus class followed me over there. He kept trying to talk to me while I was in line, and was pretty much just creeping me out. And you know how paranoid of people I've been for the past couple of months, or whatever."

"Were you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. I was about to start having a panic attack when Bobby came by, put his arm around my shoulder and led me to his table. Then he shared his cookie with me."

"So an interesting lunch to say the least, yes?"

I smiled. "Yes, to say the very least."

"Robert is a very nice young man."

I nodded in agreement. "Yes he is. And I'm glad he was there to rescue me."

He gave me a smile. "As I'm sure he was glad to be there for you."

I stood and stretched my muscles a bit before taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator. "Hank," I started timidly. He looked at me from where he was searching through the cabinets. His look urged me to go on. "Why do people kill other people for no reason?"

"Well," he said, taking a bottle of apple vinegar down from a high shelf, "some people have problems. Their brains are different from our own. They think differently. Some people don't realize that what they're doing is actually very wrong."

"_Some_ people? What about the rest? The ones who don't have anything wrong with their brains? Why do they kill people?"

He closed the cabinet door and looked at me. "It's a sad fact that where there is good in the world, there is also evil. They have no true excuse other than they enjoy watching others suffer at their hand. There is no way to truly rid the world of evil; some people say we even need it, because it can bring out the good. The same as we need the night before the sun can rise and the winter before the earth can be reborn. When we are exposed to both good and bad and choose the good, even though it may be harder for us, then we have overcome the night, the cold, in favor of the light, and that is truly a feat we must never take for granted." I let out a sigh. "Is that not the answer you were looking for?"

I gave him a weak smile. "I don't know what I'm looking for Hank. I thought I did, but now I just feel so…confused."

"What about?"

"Absolutely everything. I don't know what I think, or feel, or believe anymore. I don't know who I am, and I never thought I'd say that. I mean, to me, I grew up in a family that was telling me to think one thing, while I always thought someone else. My ideas and views were always _different_, but I was sure of them. But now it's like, I'm an adult now, I don't have to follow one idea, I can believe whatever I want, but I don't know what I _do_ believe." I let out another sigh and shook my head. "I don't know. Growing up just sucks."

He let out a laugh that warmed my heart and I couldn't help but genuinely smile. "It gets better with time my dear, of that I can assure you. And we will always be here for you, should you need any help. As for not knowing what to believe; I'm afraid you're on your own. Not everyone believes the same way and there is no right or wrong answer, which I know makes it all the more confusing. You just have to allow yourself to grow and believe in what's right for _you_. Eventually it will start to make some sense and begin to get clearer, but you have to realize that it will never _truly_ be clear. We never know if what we're doing is the right thing, we just have to go with what we feel in our heart," he said. "And you are clairvoyant; you feel the strongest of us all."

I shook my head. "I don't always know that what I feel is right. I've been wrong…quite a few times, actually. I could be wrong again, and I'm sure I will be."

"Your problem is that although you are clairvoyant, you're far too cerebral. You depend far too much on logic and thought when you should trust yourself and your intuition more. You will get things wrong, we all do, but you mustn't allow that to stop you from listening to your own instincts. You're a very smart person, Jayden, of that I have no doubt. But sometimes the heart knows and understands things better than our minds. Trust you heart and never regret your decisions."

"Is that the secret to a happy life?" I asked with a bit of a smile. I had meant it jokingly, but then realized I was quite serious about it.

He smiled at me kindly. "There is no secret."

"Then why are you always so happy while everyone else is mopey? What do you know that we don't?"

"You get out of life what you put into it. The world is alive, the universe is alive, and everything we do goes out to be given back to us later. If we do good things, then eventually good things will happen to us, and the same with the bad. Florence Scovel Shinn, who was a writer and a teacher in the early nineteen hundreds said, 'The game of life is a game of boomerangs. Our thoughts, deeds and words return to us sooner or later with astounding accuracy.' And I must say I agree."

"So you're saying that the universe is alive and every time we do something, it remembers it and brings it back to us sooner or later?"

"Yes, exactly. The same way a positive thought can bring about a positive situation. We get what's in our hearts."

"But what if someone we love is dying and in our hearts we don't want them to? They still die."

"Our hearts should not be focused on stopping the process of dying, but on prolonging the act of life. Despite our intentions, we may be setting ourselves up for a fall simply because we don't know what to ask. Using your question as an example, if we are asking for someone not to die, then we are projecting the word 'death' from our hearts, no matter the instance in which it's being used. We must learn to ask, instead, for their life, so that is the word we're projecting."

I stood there for a minute in silence, trying to absorb what he had just said. "So you believe that everything we do, say, or even _think_ has a significant affect on what actually happens to us in our lives?"

"Yes, that is what I personally believe."

"Then why do people die? Because of negativity in their lives somewhere?"

"No, we die because much like we need bad in order to see the good, and night to be able to appreciate the day, people must die in order for us to recognize life."

"But what happens to us after we die?"

"Well, some people believe -"

"No, what do _you_ believe?"

He let out a breath and thought for a moment. "I believe there are places that our souls go when they leave our physical bodies."

"Like heaven and hell?"

"Yes."

"How do you believe our souls get sorted to go to one place or the other?"

"I believe in depends on what we've done in this world, what we've done with our time, our talents, and what we put out into the universe."

I nodded. "And if it _doesn't_ work like that, you're not doing anything to hurt anyone else; it's all about doing good things and helping people, right?"

"Yes, I believe that is what the point of life is."

"And by helping other people, doing good things, you get it all returned to you, which is why you're happy?"

He smiled. "Exactly."

"But what about the people you said have problems and kill people, but don't realize what they're doing is wrong? What happens to them?"

The smile left his face. "I'm not quite sure," he admitted.

I let out a long sigh. "So no matter _what_ I find myself believing in, there's never going to be an exact idea, I won't understand it all, will I?"

"No," he said truthfully. "That's why it's called a _faith_; you must believe in it blindly with no real evidence, because that's what faith is."

"Yeah, I've never been really good at the whole faith thing."

He moved closer to me, closing the gap between us with his large body. "Do you not trust yourself to Logan? Trust your heart in his hands? Do you not believe that he will always do everything to the best of his ability to protect and take care of you?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you have faith. Perhaps he is the only one who has earned it, but I've seen the faith you've put into him and I've seen how strong it is. Why is that?"

"Because he's my father."

He shook his head. "Did you not trust him before you knew that's who he was?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I could feel it was right. I was sure it was." I shook my head. "It sounds crazy because he was a stranger to me, but I knew it was right."

He gave me another smile. "Then _that_ is what you have to trust in order to decide what you believe. It may not always tell you about your mistakes you make, but when it's telling you something's right, then it is. Perhaps only for the moment, but it _will_ be right."

"How can I be sure?"

"Because it gave you Logan, and the adoration that I see radiating from the two of you whenever you are together or speaking of one another is more overwhelming than anything I've ever experienced in my life. The two of you were meant to be together, and it felt right to both of you. When you find what you're meant to believe, it will feel right and you'll know it. It'll be something that feels strong enough for you to put your faith into. Just as you did Logan."

I nodded. "Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome, my love," he said, bending down to kiss the top of my head. "Now I'm afraid I must leave you and wash my fur. Purple is not a very suiting color for me." I laughed. "If you ever want to discuss this again, you know my heart, my ears and my doors are always open to you at any time."

"Yeah, I know. Thank you."

"I will see you at dinner."

"Okay," I said with another heavy sigh. "I love you, Hank."

"And I love you, sweetheart."

What Hank had said made some sense to me. The idea of what we do and think being brought back to either reward or punish us later was intriguing. We made our own fortune and our own misfortune. And maybe if we were busy trying to put positive into the world, we concentrated more on the positive things that were happening to us, rather than the negative. Maybe sometimes we looked for the bad things to happen to us because we wanted a reason to complain about life, and by looking for them, we bring them to fruition. I knew that the world was made up of live energy, because I felt it, I _knew_ it was there. So maybe there was a possibility that they reacted to what they were exposed to. After all, for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.

Or maybe we have no say in it at all. Maybe we see what we want to. Hank once told me that believing is seeing, and maybe he was right. Maybe when we believe in something, we begin to see it. We see signs proving it everywhere because our minds are trained to see them, and set to accept them. We become blind to logic because of what we want to believe.

Or maybe I didn't know anything at all and was more confused than I had been _before_ my conversation with Hank. The only thing I was sure of was that I was sure of nothing.


	4. Lightening Crashes

Disclaimer: I don't own, you don't sue, everyone's happy. :)

Side Note: My beta reader Rowena DeVandal is sick so I'm uploading these un-beta-ed(?). When she gets better, I'll fix the mistakes. Enjoy!

* * *

"Freakin' A, dude!" I yelled as the ground rushed up to meet me. With only a few seconds to think, I arched my back and let the tension out of my body before landing on my feet. I stood and looked up at the fifty foot building from where I had just fallen. "Freakin' A," I said again, shaking my head.

"There goes bein' stealthy," Logan muttered as he emerged from the shadows.

"And where were you while I was getting the crap kicked out of me and being pushed off the huge building?"

"I was down here, where I was supposed to be," he said. "It's not my fault you're gettin' the crap kicked outta' you by a computer."

I snarled at him. "It's not _just_ a computer; it's the Danger Room computer. It's smart and it hurts."

"It's fake."

"Screw you."

He laughed. "Nice one, darlin'. You done yet?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling off my gloves. "I'm done with it all. Just quit the simulation and let me out of here."

He stared at me in the darkness of the room. "Why do you wanna' quit? We ain't done yet."

"I know."

After my talk with Hank, I had finished my reading and my ice cream. Then Logan and I suited up for a training session in the Danger Room. But my mind just wasn't in it.

"Two weeks ago you were all but layin' down on the floor and pitchin' a fit for me to run the simulation again until you got it. We've only been in here for an hour, we're over half way there, and you wanna' quit?" he asked as a car exploded somewhere behind me.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I'm just tired and I don't feel like running through trenches and getting beaten by a computer generated bad guy. All the cuts fade when the shows over, but I still get sore and I still get tired. I have some crap I have to do for social science class and I'm just not into it today."

"Well, I ain't into you bein' a part of the X-Men, but I'm here helpin' you train for it."

"I know, I'm sorry."

He let out a breath and ran his hand through the back of his hair. "But I told you to focus on your school first, didn't I?" he said more to himself. "Danger Room: End simulation," he ordered loudly.

"Simulation ended. Mission failed," the voice-over announced. Then the images began to fade, leaving a giant silver metal room.

I let out a sigh of relief and made my way out into the hall. Logan was right behind me. Before I ducked into the girl's locker room for a shower, he grabbed my arm.

"This ain't about school work, is it?" he said, his eyes locked with mine.

"I have a lot on my mind. My mutation is giving me problems, school's hectic, and just a lot of personal stuff is going on that I'm confused about."

"Like what?"

I shrugged. "Just everything. I'm just having a hard time dealing with some stuff right now."

"You wanna' talk about it?"

I looked at him with a small smile. "Do _you_?"

"Not really. But if you wanna' talk, I'll listen. We can grab a pizza and you can tell me what's goin' on."

I gave him a bigger smile. "You know, under the hairy, growly exterior, you do pretty well with the father stuff."

"Is that a yes or a no that you wanna' go talk about it?"

I thought for a moment before letting out a deep breath. "I don't know if I want to _talk _about everything, but I could do with getting out of here for a while."

"Alright. Shower and get dressed and we'll go when you get ready."

"Okay," I said as he let go of my arm. He turned around and began heading towards the men's locker room. "Hey Logan?"

He turned around. "Yeah?"

"I meant what I said; you're a good father."

He gave me a smile that was borderline smirk. "Thanks, you ain't too bad yourself, darlin'."

"We're not too bad, are we? I mean, we're okay, right?"

"Yeah, we're okay."

I nodded. "Good."

"Get cleaned up and I'll buy you a pizza. You're still too skinny."

I laughed. "Give me twenty minutes and I'll be ready."

True to my word, I was ready to leave in twenty minutes. I pulled on my school T-shirt along with my worn out blue jeans and slipped on a pair of my running shoes. Then I braided my wet hair into pigtails and was out in the garage, ready to leave.

"Which car are we taking?" I asked.

"We're not," Logan said, handing me a helmet and my leather jacket. "We're takin' the bike."

"You're going to let me ride on your bike? You don't even let anyone touch her; she's your baby."

"So are you. Get on."

I grinned as I pulled on my jacket and strapped on my helmet before climbing on the bike behind him. He started it and was about to pull away when I heard him swear.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Chuck just announced we got a mission," he said. "They can go without me."

"Logan, if they need you, then you can't just run off. We can go another time."

He turned the motorcycle off. "Sorry, darlin'."

"Don't be. I have some home work I need to study for anyway."

He looked at me from over his shoulder. "We'll go when I get back, I promise. Alright?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Just come back to me in one piece, yeah?"

"Yeah, I will," he said, climbing off the bike.

"And try not to fight too much with Scott."

"Chuck said 'Ro's coverin' this one, so it shouldn't be too bad."

"Where are you going?"

"Florida."

"Go on then, furry-face; the world needs you," I said with a smile.

He tilted my chin up and bent down to kiss my cheek. "I should be home tomorrow or the next day. Take care of yourself until I get back."

"Will do," I said, saluting him.

He laughed and began walking towards the door leading back to the school. "Bye, darlin'."

"Bye," I said, climbing from the bike. I watched him walk until he was almost to the door. "Love you, Logan," I whispered.

He turned around and gave me a wink. "Love you, too, baby."

* * *

Once Logan left, I decided to try to do the rest of my homework outside. It was still warm out and the sun was hanging just above the trees. Some of the other students had similar ideas as me and it took me a while to find a spot away from everyone. I finally settled at a table in the pool area. The pool hadn't been closed yet and probably wouldn't be for another two or so weeks. Although it was still warm enough to swim, by the time the students were through with school and their homework, the sun had started to set and left the water too cold. Which is why it was deserted while I was sitting there.

Water calmed me. I had been a pretty decent swimmer when I was younger, I had learned to hold my breath for a little over two minutes, and there was something about watching the water that soothed me.

I pulled out a notebook and a pen from my bag and attempted to start my paper for social science class. My class had been split up and given different political views that we were supposed to write about. I drew the death penalty and had to come up with a away to write about it that would convince the class that when I believed was the right thing to do.

Only problem was, I didn't know _what_ I believed. There was nothing black and white anymore. It felt like _everything_ had faded into a gray area. Did I think it was right to kill people? I didn't know, because it depended on the context in which they were killed. Just for fun? Bad.

Because if you don't kill them first, they'll kill you? That was okay, I guess.

What if you killed someone on accident? It's not good or okay, but should you be punished for an _accident_? Something that wasn't even in your control?

What about mercy killings? What if a person you loved more than the world itself was suffering? If they came to you and said they were hurting, that they had a pain that was only going to get worse the longer they lived and told you that you could take the pain away, could you do it? Could you kill them? And would it be wrong? Or what if they're not suffering, but you _know_ they will? You know their life will be nothing but pain, and they don't, or _can't_, ask you to end their life before they start to hurt. Is it okay to take their life away from them?

Should those of us who are mad, completely insane, and _genuinely_ have problems, be treated the same as those who are in their own minds?

Should adults and adolescents be tried the same, or should there be different rules? And what determines the difference between the maturity of an adult mind versus one of a teenagers, or younger? If they both killed with the same intent, then shouldn't they receive the exact same treatment?

Or does intent matter when taking the life of a human? Most people have families, no matter how sick or twisted or absolutely evil the person is. Is it right to take a person from their family, to make them suffer as well? What if they have children and they're the only one taking care of them; is it right to punish the children as well?

Or should we never even take into account their family when they've committed a crime against humanity by murdering another person? When they've willfully and purposefully killed someone else, no matter they're intentions, should we worry about their children, or should we say that they should have thought of them _before_ committing murder?

I let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of my nose. My head was suddenly pounding from the confusion I was suffering. I knew I wasn't meant to be writing on what I _personally_ believed; I was writing a paper for an assignment. I just didn't know how to go about writing it in a convincing matter if I wasn't convinced of it myself.

I scribbled out what I had written and tore the page from my notebook. But a gust of wind blew it from my hands and it went flying into the air, landing in the pool. I stood and walked to the edge and tried fishing the wet paper out, but it was too far away from my reach, and every attempt only rippled the water, causing it to float further out. I looked around me, trying to find something I could use to scoop it out with, when my sight shifted. Everything went blurry. And when it came back into focus, I was standing in a hospital room.

There was a girl lying in a bed.

I looked around the room, looking for any sign of anything unusual. There had to be a reason for why I was there. I just couldn't see it. I looked back to the girl and realized that she was much older than I had originally thought. At first, I had assumed she was barely a teenager, but looking at her again, I saw that she was probably closer to twenty. She had short, black hair, with a cut close to her head that resembled a boy's haircut. Her eyes were a dull brown color that looked glossed over, and judging from the IV in her arm, it was probably due to the drugs. Her skin was pale, showing that she hadn't been out in the sun in a very long time.

I heard someone outside her room, walking down the hall. I heard the door open. The girl looked up, her drug hazed eyes focusing on the person who had just walked in.

"_Daddy, what did you do_?" she asked.

I felt my hair stand on end, then a jolt of pain run through me, and everything went black.

* * *

My eyes blinked against the light shining above my head as they fought to adjust to its brightness. My whole body was sore and my head was pounding.

"Hey, you're awake," I heard a familiar voice say from somewhere to my left. I looked up and saw Scott smiling down at me. "How do you feel?"

"Like crap," I said, my jaw muscles killed me. "What happened?"

"You were struck by lightening and fell into the pool."

"What do you mean I was struck by lightening? It wasn't storming."

"Apparently lightening can strike about five or so miles from an actual storm. It was raining when I pulled you out of the pool."

"You pulled me out?"

"Yeah. Your heart stopped, I had to give you CPR." I reached up and touched my lips. He had given me mouth to mouth. It was probably the closest I would ever get to kissing him and I was unconscious for the whole thing. "Don't worry; I don't have cooties," he said with a smile.

I laughed. "Are you sure? Should I get Hank to check for me?"

He kept smiling down at me as I moved my hand from my mouth. "No, I'm good," he said. "I promise."

"I'll take your word for it then," I said. I continued to look up at him as the smile faded from my face. "Am I okay? Is everything going to be all right with me, or am I going to have problems?"

"No, Hank says you're going to be okay. He said you'll probably be sore for a few days, and there are some possible side effects to being hit by lightening, but nothing too bad. You were only in the water for a while, but he said he didn't see any problems from that. Other than the fact that you hit your foot on the side of the pool as you fell in. He said you sprained your ankle again."

I had sprained my ankle a few months back while training in the Danger Room. I thought I could jump from a ten foot building with no problem, but I ended up falling on my left foot, twisting it, and then knocking myself out. It took a month for it to heal completely.

I groaned. "Great," I said sarcastically. I let out a sigh. "Wait…how did you know what happened to me?"

"The Professor felt it when you were hit. Hank and I both rushed to get you, I just got there first."

"Thank you."

He shook his head slowly and I could feel him staring at me from behind his glasses. "Don't," he said simply, his tone strong.

"You saved my life."

He bent his head down lower to me. "It was my pleasure," he said, his voice quiet and serious.

His face was only a few inches above mine, with his mouth even closer, and I was nothing more than to kiss him. And I was extremely tempted to do so. I was sure that if it was the wrong thing to do, if he didn't feel the same way, it would still be worth it. That those few precious moments would be all I needed to be happy for the rest of my life. And with him as close as he was, talking to me the way he was, and staring at me the way I felt he was, I couldn't help but feel confused by _how_ he felt about me.

"Ah, the patient's awake!" I heard Hank's cheerful voice call.

Scott smiled almost apologetically and stood up straighter, moving his face away from mine. "Yeah, she just woke up," he said, sticking his hands into his pockets. "I guess I'll go and let you talk to her. I think I did a pretty bad job explaining what happened."

"I'm sure you did a fine job."

"I'll let the two of you talk. I'll see you later Jayden, I hope you feel better soon."

"Thank you, Scott."

He smiled at me. "You're welcome," he said before turning and leaving.

Hank sat on the stool and rolled his way over to me. His fur was still slightly purple, but he didn't smell quite so strongly of tomatoes. More like cologne and coffee. He looked at me from over the top of his glasses. "You two looked quite cozy. Is there anything I should know about?"

I shook my still pounding head. "Aside from the fact that I feel like I can't hear out of my right ear? No."

He laughed. "Are you changing the subject, my dear?"

"Yes."

"All right, fair enough," he said. "I'm sure that he explained what we know about what happened. Now I would like to hear from you about what you remember if you can?"

"I was outside doing my homework. I tore a piece of paper out and it was blown away and landed in the pool. I went to try to get it out and I started having a vision. It didn't seem like an important vision, but I remember that while I was having it, I felt my hair stand up and then pain. Everything went black after that, and that's all I really remember."

"Partial amnesia is quite common."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. I'm actually a little surprised that you remember as much as you do."

"Scott said there might be other side effects, or something. What are they?"

"Well, aside from amnesia, seizures, which you've shown no sign of yet, motor control damage, blindness, sleep disorders, headaches, confusion, and tingling or numbness. Also hearing loss, which I'm afraid you said you had. Fortunately it's more than likely not permanent. It should only last a few days."

"It wasn't storming, though. The sky was perfectly clear. I wouldn't be stupid enough to be out by the pool in the middle of a storm."

"Lightening often strikes as far as ten miles away from any rainfall. If you can hear thunder, lightening is close enough to strike at any moment."

I shook my head once again. "Yeah, I didn't hear thunder or again, I wouldn't have been out there. My mother wouldn't even let me take _showers_ when they were calling for storms, I wouldn't be outside by a _pool_ if I knew a storm was coming. The sky was blue and clear."

"Well, lightening can travel sideways up to ten miles as well. Even when the sky looks blue and clear, as you said it was. At least ten percent of lightening occurs without any visible clouds overhead in the sky."

"So I could have died because of some…freak accident?"

"Actually, lightening only kills about ten percent of its victims."

"Well, I was part of the ten percent that strikes in the middle of a freakin' clear blue sky, so why not the other ten percent that dies as well?"

"Your mutation, because it conducts energy, actually attracts it as well. So because lightening is made up of live energy, you were actually more likely to be struck than the other ten percent," he said. "And you know, ore people actually die from flash-flooding than any other thunderstorm associated hazard."

"It wasn't storm!" I exclaimed.

"Although," he began, ignoring my ranting. "Most lightening deaths and injuries occur when people are caught outdoors in the summer months, during the afternoon and evening."

"Like me?"

"Yes, exactly."

"Great," I mumbled. "So when did you say I would get my hearing back?"

"I'd say in a few days. Just rest and give it time."

I sat up, my body feeling sore and aching. "I can't rest and give it time; I have a paper to write for school. It's due Friday, today's Wednesday, and I haven't even started it yet."

"I'll call your teacher and explain your situation. I'm sure they can give you an extension. You need to rest."

"I thought you said only ten percent of people die from lightening? I'm in the healthy, _living_, ninety percent. I'm good."

"Yes, the lightening strike wasn't so terrible. It was your almost drowning that was," he said, his face serious."

"But you said I was okay."

"Now. If Scott hadn't pulled you out and began resuscitating you as quickly as he did, then you could have easily died. You weren't breathing, so you didn't inhale any water, but four minutes is the longest a person can hold their breath and anything longer than that it becomes dangerous. The chance that you did survive after being under for any longer could have caused you to suffer brain damage or even more serious health problems," he said. "You scared all of us, Jayden, and I would rather that in what's left of my time on earth, another minute is not spent watching you being brought back from the dead. I much prefer you the way you are; alive."

I nodded my head but didn't say anything else. I had nearly died, once again, and my mind went to work, trying to process that.

Death. It's something that none of us can escape. Sometimes she comes when we least expect it. But then there are times when those who love us reach down and pry us from death's grip and bring us back to the world of the living. Scott had been the one who had saved me. He brought me back to life.

Death; it's all around us, and sometimes we're closer to it than we know.

* * *

Hank had insisted that I spend the night in the infirmary. I didn't want to stay by myself and so he stayed in his office, studying some of his notes while I tried to get to sleep. But it was pointless. My muscles were aching, my head was pounding, I couldn't hear out of my right ear still and my chest was incredibly sore and bruised from where Scott had performed CPR on me. Hank said that he had bruised my ribs and that I was lucky he hadn't actually _broken_ any. Fortunately since my foot was wrapped and propped up, I couldn't feel any pain in it.

It was about fifteen till ten that night when Hank came to check on me. "Still awake?" he asked, walking into the room.

"Yeah."

"Am I keeping you up? Would you prefer me to turn my office light out?"

"No, it's fine. The light's not bothering me. I just can't sleep right now."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Not unless you have a Jimmy Durante CD on hand, by any chance," I answered with a small laugh.

"I don't have one on hand, but I'm sure I could find one, if you would like me to?"

I smiled at him. "No, it's okay. Thank you, though."

"Would you like me to sing for you? I know 'I'll Be Seeing You' quite well."

"No, that's quite alright."

I hummed the Jimmy Durante song 'I'll Be Seeing You' every night in order to get myself to sleep. I had done so since I was about three. I hummed it until I was eighteen, never knowing what it was until Logan told me and explained the meaning behind it. Although my mother had sung it to me when I was younger, I had never known it was because it had been playing when I was born. And even though I appreciated Hank's offer, it hadn't taken me very long after meeting him to realize that although he had a very beautiful and elegant speaking voice, his singing voice was quite terrible. Not that I could really say much myself.

"Hank?"

"Yes, sweetheart."

"How does that karma stuff you were talking about earlier today work? Is it just do good things, good things happen, do bad things, bad things happen?"

"It's a little more complicated than that, but it is the basic idea, yes."

"So I'm obviously doing something bad then, right?"

"Now why would you think that?"

"Because bad things keep happening to me. I mean, that's how it works, right?"

"I thought you didn't believe in that?"

I let out a sigh. "I don't know _what_ I believe in."

"Then you shouldn't worry about it."

"But if you're right, if that's how it works, then I must be doing something wrong," I said. "Right?"

"Jayden, I think that you have been in some very unfortunate situations in your life, but I believe that they were brought on by those around you and bad decisions made by the same people. I don't know that they've all been your fault."

"I almost died today; who else's fault could that have been _but_ mine?"

He let out a heavy sigh. "I don't know."

"You're supposed to be a genius scientist; shouldn't you know everything?"

He gave a small chuckle and sat back in his seat. "I'm afraid that's not quite true, my dear," he said.

I gave him a smile. "Well, it seems that way to me at least. You're supposed to have an answer for everything."

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't. There simply isn't an answer for everything."

I thought for a moment in silence. "What if I _did _believe in it? Would it work for me then?"

He gave me a slight smile and I could see his bright teeth gleaming in the dark. "If you would like to test it, you could try a few simple things, and changing some of your habits, that way you could see if it works for you. If not, as you observed earlier, you would only be doing things to _help_ people."

"So you win either way?"

"Precisely."

"I think I want to try it. It couldn't hurt."

"May I make a suggestion?" I nodded my head. "Don't try to save the world; you'll never win."

"Good suggestion," I said. "Any others?"

"How about being nice to Rogue?"

I let out a groan. "I don't know, dude. That's sort of like turning the world on its axis and spinning it the other way, isn't it?"

"I would certainly hope not. After all, the foolish and the dead alone -"

"Never change their opinions," I said, finishing his sentence.

He smiled at me again. "Ah, so you've heard that one before, eh?"

I smiled back. "Once or twice," I said. I let out a dramatic sigh. "I don't know, why does everything have to be so confusing?"

"Mark Twain once said, when you realize that life is mad, all the universe stands explained."

"What does Hank McCoy say about it?"

He laughed. "I say I haven't quite figured it out yet myself. I don't think we ever understand anything until we're dying, then perhaps all the mysteries of the world are explained."

"I don't much care about the mysteries of the world; just my life. I want to understand it and why things happen the way they do." I shook my head. "I've just been so confused about _everything_ lately. I mean, the past couple of months have been…horrible."

"Have they truly been that bad?"

"Uh, yeah, pretty much. I'm scared and paranoid and confused. And that's almost constantly. That, mixed with my schedule, is killing me."

"I'm sorry things are so hard for you."

I smiled at him. "It's okay. It's not your fault."

"Are you going to be able to sleep okay?"

"Yeah, I think I will now," I said. "Thank you."

He gave me another smile. "You're welcome. Goodnight sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Hank," I said before I began humming softly to myself.

As I rocked back and forth, attempting to rock myself to sleep, I looked at Hank through heavy eyelids. I could see his blue eyes sparkle from the light from his office and I felt oddly comforted. Hank was my friend, my mentor, and like another father to me. That night he sat watching me, and with him there, I felt safe.

* * *

I was sleeping, having one of my calmer nights, when I felt a hand on my arm. It was a touch that was seared in my memory. It woke me, but not with a start. I sat up and looked at Logan. He was standing by my bed in the dark.

"What are you doing back? I thought you were supposed to be gone for a couple of days?"

"Summers called and told me what happened. We finished the job and 'Ro got me back here as soon as she could," he answered. "You okay?"

I nodded my head, still feeling sleep clinging to my mind like a fog. "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm still a little sore and stuff, and I can't hear out of my right ear, but Hank said that was natural and it should be back to normal in a few days."

"That's all."

"Yeah, that's it," I said. "How about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay darlin', I didn't get hurt."

"Good. How did the mission go?"

"It went fine," he said, sounding a little frustrated. "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Yeah, why?"

He let out a breath and I could feel his worry go out along with it and it hit me hard. "Summers told me what happened. He said you almost _died_. That don't seem alright to me."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to tell me what's goin' on."

I looked at him and pushed the hair away from my face. "So you want me to tell you that every single one of my muscles is killing me because of some weird thing the lightening did to me? That my chest is black and blue from the bruises Scott left from trying to get my heart started again?" I asked, standing up. Forgetting it was injured, I put my weight on my left foot. As a rush of pain rolled through my already hurting body, I gritted my teeth and swore. "Do you want me to tell you that my freakin' foot is sprained and bruised because I twisted and hit it as I was falling into the swimming pool? Which I don't even remember, because I was unconscious. Is that want you want me to say?" The sleep had worn off me; I was awake and pissed.

He stopped right up in my face. I could feel his hot breath on my nose and forehead as I looked up at him. "Yeah, 'cause that would be the _truth_. I ain't your other father, and I ain't like your parents, either. They wanna' hear from you that everything's okay. But I actually _care_ about you, kid and I want _you_ to tell _me_ the _truth_."

"The truth? You want me to tell you the freakin' truth? How about the fact that when I woke up, I was scared of out my mind!" I yelled. "I nearly died and I easily could have. I was so close to death and I'm terrified. Is that what you want me to say? That I'm scared?"

He grabbed my face in his hands and tilted it back further. He wiped the tears that had just begun to fall from my face with the pads of his thumbs. "Yeah, 'cause if that's how it is, then that's what I wanna' hear," he said quiet and softly. It was a voice he reserved only for me. "If you're scared, then we'll figure out how to fix it, all right?"

I nodded, my tears still falling. "Yeah."

"But I can't do anything about it unless you tell me. So if you're scared, then you gotta' say something. Stop hidin' and lyin' about stuff. You gotta' help me out here, baby. I can't do this on my own, okay?" I nodded again. "Then you gotta' start sayin' something."

I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder while he held me to him. "I'm scared," I sobbed. "I don't want to die, it scares me."

He kissed the side of my head and stroked my hair. "Shh," he cooed quietly. "It's all right baby, I got you."

"I don't want to feel like this anymore. I hate it."

I fell into the feeling of his strong arms holding me and let myself go. He just held me tighter and gave me another kiss. "I know you do, I know," he said quietly. "But you're gonna' be okay. I'm gonna' take care of you, you hear me?"

"Yeah…yeah, I hear you."

"No matter _what_, I'm always gonna' be here, and I'm always gonna' love you. You're _mine_ and there ain't nothing that could change that. _Nothing_. And I want you to know that while I'm around, I'm gonna' do my best to _always_ take care of you. I'll do anything I gotta' do to make sure you're okay. I'll do anything and everything. Don't be scared that I'm ever gonna' let anyone take you without a fight, even if it means dyin' myself. And I know there's a lotta' people here that feel that way about you, too."

"I'm still scared. And I'm _so_ confused about everything."

"I know, and I wish I could fix it for you, but I can't. But that ain't gonna' stop me from tryin'."

I took in a shaking breath. "Okay."

He gave me another kiss, on my neck, and cradled my head to him. "You're gonna' be scared and confused, it's all right, 'cause so am I. But we're gonna' get through it together. We're gonna' figure it out."

I pulled back so that I could look at his face and he wiped the rest of my tears from my cheeks. "I love you, Logan," I whispered.

He kissed my eyelids. "I love you, too, baby."

Logan didn't sort anything out for me, he didn't give me any answers, but when he was with me, things seemed clearer. Even though I was still confused, he made things seem better. And with him there, I could finally sleep.


	5. Cloud of Confussion

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Fox or Marvel, X3 never would have happend and Wolverine never would have worn a shirt in any of them. Sadly, I don't own the rights to them. Or the title of the story. But enjoy!

* * *

"Knock-knock," I said, standing in Logan's doorway the next afternoon.

He poked his head from his bathroom and smiled at me. "How you feelin', darlin'?"

"About as crappy as yesterday, maybe a little worse," I said, leaning against his doorway. My hearing was still a little off so it took me a minute to realize there was music playing. "What _are_ you listening to?"

"'Crazy'."

"Yeah, I know you are," I said with a bit of a smirk.

He shook his head. "It's 'Crazy', by Patsy Cline."

"Yeah, I've never heard of her."

"It's a CD Marie picked up for me Christmas last year. It's got Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash -"

"I know who Johnny Cash is!" I exclaimed excitedly.

He gave me another smile. "Good, your parents ain't completely screwed you up."

I laughed. "Not completely. They saved a little bit for you to screw up."

He raised his eyebrows at me. "Well, that was awfully nice of 'em," he said sarcastically.

I smiled and shrugged my shoulder. "I think so." I looked around his room. "What are you doing?"

"Cleanin'."

"Cleaning _what_? You room is insanely immaculate. I've never even seen a book out of place."

"And your room's just a mess, right?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"I _had_ to keep my room clean, my parents made me."

"You're parents ain't here."

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, so we're both screwed up and weird."

"Oh yeah," he said, ducking back into the bathroom.

I walked into his room and began looking through the books on his shelf. Every one was in its perfect place, just like always. He would let me borrow whichever books I wanted, whenever I wanted. So far, I had gotten through about one third of them and I was still working. I pulled out the books I considered reading one by one to skim over the summaries on the back covers. They all sounded interesting, but nothing I felt like reading right then.

I heard him walk out of the bathroom and stop behind me. He put his hand on my shoulder. "'Dracula', good choice."

"I'm not reading it."

"Why not?"

"I just…I just don't feel like it is all."

I could sense the smirk on his face even though I couldn't see it. "You're scared of vampires," he said accusingly.

"No, why would you think that?"

"Because you are."

"And you're a jackass, but I don't call you out on it."

"You don't?"

"Well…not all the time."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're scared of vampires."

"I'm not scared of them; I just don't much care for them."

"'Cause you're scared of 'em."

I spun around and looked up at him. His smirk was painted across his mouth, with a corner of his top lip curled up on one side. "You really _are_ a jackass."

"You know, I might take offence to that if you were the first person to call me that today," he said. "But you're not."

I crossed my arms, annoyed, and looked up at him. He just kept smirking at me. "So what if I don't like them? They're creepy. They con you into trusting them and making you think that you're okay and safe, then they kill you and drink your blood."

He cocked his head to the side. "I think you're lookin' a little too far into it, kid," he said.

"Am I? I mean, that's the point of the book, right? Dracula is the king of the vampires who gets people to trust him, brings them to his house, and then kills them. Right?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he said. "But I think you're more scared of the trusting people who're gonna' kill you idea than the bloodsucking."

I waved my arms, stopping him. "It doesn't matter _why_; I just don't like them. There's nothing wrong with that, a lot of people don't. It's not a big deal," I said, turning back around and placing the book back in its spot. "Besides dude, I don't feel like reading a book where people get killed and crap. I just want something that I can read without having to think about freakin' _death_."

"You're lookin' at the wrong bookshelf, then." He turned me back around and looked down at me. His face was serious as he brushed the hair out of my face. "How scared would you be if you saw a vampire dressed as a clown?" I punched his arm with little effect accept hurting my own hand. "Hey, what're you hittin' me for? I was bein' serious!" he said with a laugh.

"No you weren't, you were making fun of me."

For as long as I could remember, I had had a fear of clowns. I had accidentally let that slip to Logan while standing on a chair after I had seen a cockroach crawl across the floor of the motel room which we were sharing. Before I had known who he was, he had known my fears and made a point to make fun of me for it whenever he could.

"Don't be mad at me," he said with his smirk still on his face.

"You know what, screw the book; you're being a jerk."

"Are you gonna' stay mad at me?" he asked as I began walking towards his door.

"Probably for a while," I said, and then turned around. "And wasn't it just last night when you told me that I should tell you when I'm afraid? Now you're making fun of me. How does that work?"

"I wasn't makin' fun; I was just askin' you a question."

"Oh yeah, just a simple, innocent question," I said, rolling my eyes. "Right now I'm going to find some people who _don't_ make fun of me." I gave him a smirk of my own. "Like _Scott_."

He growled. "I don't like you hangin' out with him."

"Why? It's not like anything's going to happen, dude. I mean…" I shook my head. "Just no, nothing's _ever_ going to happen."

"Yeah, and it better stay that way."

"I don't think you have anything to worry about," I said, finally walking out his door and into the hall. "Have fun huffing cleaning supplies; I'm going to get some ice cream."

I heard him laugh as I left and couldn't help but smile. I couldn't stay mad at him.

* * *

I was in my bedroom, it was dark, and I was lying in my bed. I had been asleep, but something woke me. A noise, a sound of movement in a room that should have been silent. I sat up in bed and concentrated, listening for any more sounds.

"Who's there?" I asked.

I heard another noise. It was coming from my closest.

I woke up from my deep sleep later that night and immediately began screaming. Before I could even get a hold of my emotions, Logan was bursting into my room. Scott and Hank were right behind him.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I think someone's in my closest," I said, hearing my own voice shake.

Logan didn't hesitate a second before going to my closest, popping the claws on his right hand and flinging the door open. He sniffed the air and looked through my closest with his claws at the ready. Then he let his hand fall slack by his side and retracted the claws.

"You saw someone come in here?" he asked, turning to me.

"I…I don't know."

He cocked his head at me. "You don't know?"

"I was…I saw…" I shook my head. "I don't know," I said confused. "I thought I heard something in the closest, but…I think I was asleep. But it didn't feel like a dream. I don't know. I just…I just don't know what happened."

"What did you see?" Scott asked.

"I was in here, I think, and I heard a noise. I sat up and asked who was there. Then I heard someone come from the closest and…" I shook my head again. "I guess I was asleep, because I remember sitting up again before I started screaming."

"It wasn't a vision?" Hank asked.

"No."

"So it was a dream?"

"I…" I let out a sigh. "I don't know, I guess." My mind was reeling, everything was so confusing and I didn't know what to do. I was scared.

"Are you going to be okay?" Scott asked.

I shrugged. "I think so," I said and felt a wave of emotions and thoughts wash over me. I grabbed a handful of my sheets as I balled my fists up, trying to ride through the new energy pulsing through me. I felt hints of sympathy, worry, wonderment and varying levels of love. I just didn't know which emotions belonged to whom.

I also picked up clips of thoughts, though they weren't in their owners voices, so I also didn't know which thoughts belonged to whom. There were only flashes, with bits flying through my mind, and nothing truly made sense.

"Can you guys grab just one thought and hold onto it for a little bit? I'm getting a headache," I said, gritting my teeth.

"Yeah, sorry," Scott said.

Almost immediately I felt some relief. After a few minutes, all the pressure had gone down. I let out a sigh. "Thank you."

"I think perhaps Charles should be here," Hank said.

I held my forehead in my hands. "No. the last time we woke him up because of something I had seen, there was nothing he could do. He couldn't even find a trace of what I had seen in my mind. This wasn't a vision this time."

"How do you know?" Logan asked.

"Because I know the difference between my visions and my dreams."

"You didn't last time.

I looked up at him and shook my head. "This wasn't the same. I _remember_ what I saw this time. It wasn't a vision."

"But you didn't know if it was a dream or reality, correct?" Hank said.

I looked over at him. "Yes, that's correct," I said quietly.

"So if you've confused your visions with dreams, and you didn't know if this was a dream or reality, then is it not possible that you could have confused a vision for reality as well?"

I felt tears threatening to pour out of my eyes out of sheer frustration and exhaustion. I just wanted to be able to sleep without anything bothering me. I was tried of nightmares and seeing other people's problems. I let out a shaking breath in an attempt to calm myself.

"I know the difference between my visions and my dreams. I know the difference between my dreams and reality," I mumbled quietly. "I know the difference and they're never confused. _Never_." I felt my tears run down my face as I kept repeating myself, saying it over and over in a mumbling, quiet tone.

I felt my body shaking and my eyes were blurred by tears. Then I felt Logan sit down beside me. "Shh," he said, pulling me to him. It was storming out and a thunder clap sounded overhead, and I barely heard what he said next. "I think yesterday tore you up more than you thought, darlin'. We're gonna' talk to the Professor about it tomorrow and see if he can help you out. You need some help."

"No," I said shaking my head against his chest. "No, I just need some sleep and I'll be fine. There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just tired. That's all."

"Jayden, I think maybe you should talk to the Professor. He may be able to put a dampener on your mind that may keep you from having so many nightmares. It's worth trying," Scott said.

"I just want to go to sleep," I muttered, tears falling down my cheeks and absorbing into Logan's T-shirt. "That's all I want. Sleep."

"He might be able to help you get some sleep," he said.

"I don't want anyone inside my head!" I snapped. "Doesn't anyone get that? I just want to be left alone inside my own freakin' head for once!"

Logan held me tighter. "It's all right baby, no one's gonna' do anything you don't want."

"It was just a nightmare," I muttered. "Only a nightmare, that's all. That's all."

"If it _was_ just a nightmare, then that's quite common after an experience like yours. It can be very traumatizing," Hank said.

"_Can_ be? She nearly died McCoy, I'd say there's more than just a _possibility_," Logan said.

I felt a rush of hot energy hit me in the gut and it felt like someone had punched me. I let out a painful groan and jumped from my bed. Despite my sprained ankle, I ran to the bathroom and began vomiting into the toilet. Logan was right behind me, holding back my hair. I couldn't catch my breath, my sight darkened, giving me tunnel vision, and the pain was still in my stomach. I grabbed a fistful of Logan's shirt and squeezed, trying to alleviate the pain. But it didn't work. It was still there. I kept vomiting, my gut retching, causing even more pain. Then I felt a wave of something cold run down my spin and my body began to shake uncontrollably. I felt the color leave my face and my tunnel vision darkened further. I felt myself falling backwards.

Then the darkness took over.

* * *

My eyes blinked open and I immediately realized I was in the infirmary. I pushed myself and sat up. I looked around me and saw Logan, Scott, Hank and the Professor.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We were gonna' ask the same thing," Logan said, standing beside me with his arms crossed over his chest.

"You passed out," Hank said. "Do you know why?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You don't remember what brought it on?" Xavier asked as Scott began pacing back and forth at the foot of my bed.

"Uh," I said, feeling my shaky breath. "I was in my room. Hank and Logan were talking and I…I just felt this pain in my stomach and I had to throw up -"

"What kind of pain?"

"I don't know. There was like this…hot energy that I felt hit me, like right in the gut, and it felt like someone punched me, or something. So that's why I got sick. But even throwing up didn't help. I still felt the pain, like it wouldn't go away. Then I felt a rush of cold go over me and I started shaking...and everything went black," I said. "Or something like that."

"Well, your nightmare could have caused you to become violently ill. But I'm afraid that doesn't explain your feeling a 'hot energy', as you said you did. Especially not so long _after_ your waking. I would only assume that would happen just as soon as you woke up," Hank said. "Or perhaps…"

"Or perhaps _what_, McCoy?" Logan said, all patients gone from his voice.

"It was storming when you woke up, yes?"

"Uh, yeah, I think so," I said, thinking back to my room. I slowly nodded my head. "Yeah, it was."

"Then perhaps there's a possibility that your body was responding to the storm."

Logan and I both looked at him with identical looks. Even Scott stopped pacing and turned towards him, giving him a confused look. "What do you mean my body was responding to the storm? How would that work?"

"Your mutation allows you to see, hear and feel energy. Your body is a conduit, a _filter_, for those energies. I think that maybe when you were struck by lightening, instead of allowing it to pass through you, it may be _absorbing_ it."

"Yeah, it's like four in the morning, I'm tired, half asleep and I have no idea what the heck you're talking about," I said.

"Lightening is made up of energy. If being stuck by it allowed you to absorb it rather than filter it, while it was storming tonight, your body could have possibly grabbed hold of any of the passing energy and held it in your body until you passed out, and couldn't hold onto it anymore."

"Is that a real possibility? I mean, is that like, one of the symptoms or side effects, or whatever?"

"It's not a general side effect, no, because the average human body doesn't work quite like yours. Just the same as they don't work quite the same as Logan's or Scott's, or even mine. Although all bodies can hold a certain amount of energy, yours houses it very differently. Your body is _designed_ to hold more, to be more sensitive to it. It's not a side effect you'll be able to find in any text book or on the internet even, but it's a very _real_ possibility, considering your mutation."

"That's _one_ possibility, are there anymore?"

Hank let out a sigh. "It could just be memory pains. Although _you_ don't remember being hit, your body and mind do, and they could simply be reacting to the storm and by what they remember."

"And that happens sometimes?"

"Yes, sometimes."

I nodded. "Okay," I said quietly.

"Jayden, what I'm more worried about is that when Scott and Henry tried to talk you into having me put a dampener on your mind in order to try to tone down your nightmares, you were quite adamant in refusing. Why is that?" the Professor asked.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said. "I don't really remember."

"You yelled at Summers," Logan told me.

"She didn't _yell_, she just…snapped. And I don't blame her; she's tried," Scott said.

My mind felt like that was a thick fog setting on top of it and only getting thicker as they spoke. It felt like it was fighting to hide my memories and soon I had almost forgotten the entire interaction between Logan, Scott, Hank and myself after I had woken from my nightmare. And I had forgotten the nightmare itself completely.

"Hank, you said amnesia was normal, right?" I asked.

He nodded. "Yes."

"I think I'm having a bit of a problem with that right now," I said, trying to remember what had happened. But my mind wouldn't let me.

"I think perhaps you should just get some rest. Right now your mind is probably fatigued from all of the strain that's been put on it as well as your lack of sleep," Professor Xavier said. "Henry, is there anything you can give her in order to help her settle down and sleep tonight?"

"Yes," he answered, turning to go into his office to find some pills for me.

My head was hurting, I was tired, and extremely confused. All I wanted was to sleep.

"Do you want to go back to your room or stay here tonight?" Scott asked me.

I shook my head, feeling more confused than ever. "I don't know.

"If you want to stay down here, I can stay with you so you won't be alone," he said.

Logan turned to him and growled. "If she's stayin' down here, you sure ain't stayin' with her; I am."

"Well I thought since you weren't asking, I should."

"I ain't gotta' ask; it's a given."

"Well I'm sorry, I was just saying that if she wanted to stay here and _didn't _know you would stay with her, I would so she wouldn't be here _alone_."

"Why would she be alone? I've never left her alone when she's needed me."

"Except when she thought you were dead, of course."

"I didn't do that on purpose. _You're_ the one who left without me."

"I may have left you, but you're the one who got yourself lost in the first place," Scott said. "And even if I did leave you, it was completely your fault that you never contacted her to let her know if you were alive or not."

"I'm sorry, but I thought the two of you were _adults_. You're both acting like little kids," I said, shaking my head. I looked over at the Professor. "What do you say, sir? Two weeks detention and a note home to their mothers that says, 'Doesn't play well with others'?"

He laughed. "Yes, I think that should do it," he said with a smile.

Logan pointed at me. "_You_ need to go to bed and let me and Summers deal with this on our own."

"I _am_ in bed, dude, that's what started this fight; me staying down here."

Logan glared at me with a cocked eyebrow. "Well what do you want? You want me to leave and let Scott stay here?"

"Did I say that? Because I don't think I did."

"It's what you were hintin' at, wasn't it?"

"I wasn't _hinting_ at anything," I said. "And why are _you_ made at _me_? I didn't even do anything…that I can remember anyway…" I paused for a moment. "Did I?"

He let out a sigh. "No, you didn't say anything to make me mad," he said, running his hand back through his hair. "Look, we're all tired and you just need some sleep. We all do. So when Hank gets back, you need to take whatever he gives you, let the three of 'em leave, and me and you need to get some sleep. Alright?" I nodded silently. "Good."

Soon Hank returned and gave me some sort of medicine to calm my nerves and help me sleep. Then he, the Professor and Scott told me goodnight and left. Logan then turned off the lights and sat in the chair beside me.

"You can't sleep in the chair; it's not comfortable," I mumbled, already feeling the effects of the pill Hank had given me.

"Well I ain't leavin'."

"I know, but you can't rest there."

"Then move over and I'll sleep with you." He said. I moved over and let him lay down beside me. "You got enough room?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding against his chest, when my head was lying. I let out a tired sigh. "Night Logan."

"Night," he said, kissing the top of my head.

"I love you."

"Love you, too, baby."

My mind was foggy and I felt confused and tired, not to mention that my whole body ached. But when I was wrapped in his arms, even the worst of situations felt safe.

* * *

Saturday morning, I was back in my own room. I had decided to go through my clothes and get rid of the things I didn't wear anymore. I had already cleaned out my closest, filling three big garbage bags full of clothes and one of shoes, and was working on my wardrobe. I was midway through it, already having filled another bag, when I saw my old teddy bear sitting at the top on a shelf. He only had one eye, was losing his arms, and his blue fur was matted, but he still brought a smile to my face. He was pretty old and probably deserved to look at old as he did. My parents had bought him for me right after they had adopted me when I was four years old. The told me that I could pick out whatever toy I wanted and I picked him. I named him Mr. Snugga Bear and slept with him every night until I was ten, when my mother decided I was too old to continue sleeping with him. During a fight between the two of us over him, his arm started ripping and I had to give him up. And so my mother packed him away for eight years, until I left for New York, when I stashed him away in my suitcase and brought him with me.

"Hey," I heard someone say behind me. I turned around and saw Scott standing in my doorway. I smiled.

"Hey," I said back.

"Are you leaving, or something?" he joked, looking around my room.

"Oh, no, I'm getting rid of some of my stuff I don't wear anymore. It's sort of therapeutic."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Most of my clothes are just crap my mom picked out and bought for me. Since I've decided not to be her Barbie doll anymore, I thought it would be a good idea to clean all this out."

"Cleaning out all of the negativity."

I smiled at him again and nodded my head as I tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear. "Yeah, something like that."

"Well, I hope it works out for you," he said, looking at my hand. "Are you throwing that out, too?" he asked, indicating to my bear.

I looked down at him and clutched him to my chest. "No," I said. "I can't get rid of him."

He smiled and I sensed a laugh waiting in his throat. "And who is this that you can't get rid of?" he asked, walking closer. He stopped right in front of me.

I pulled my bear from my chest and held him up for Scott to see. "This is Mr. Snugga Bear."

"Snugga?"

"I couldn't say 'snuggle' when I was little, I said 'snugga', and since I snuggled with him, that's what I named him," I explained. "I know it's not very original, but I was four."

He took it from my hands and examined it for a moment. "Mr. Snugga Bear looks like he's seen better days."

I laughed. "That's because he has. I've had since for around fifteen years."

He looked up at him. "Which is like, eighty in bear years, right?" he joked with a smile.

"Exactly."

He handed him back to me. "Do you feel like going somewhere with me?"

I felt my heart speed up and my cheeks flush. "What did you have in mind?"

"I have to be in Boston later this afternoon to interview a kid and his parents about attending here and I thought you might do me a big favor and keep me company while I drive?" he said. "I mean, if you're not too busy with Mr. Snuggle Bear." He waved him in front of me.

"It's Snugga," I corrected with a smile as I took him out of Scott's hand. "And I suppose I could go. I mean, you _did_ save my life earlier this week, so I still owe you."

"This is true."

I laughed. "It's nice to see you're being modest about it."

He smiled and I felt my knees go weak. "Well, it's not every day I pull a girl out of a swimming pool and have to give her CPR. I'm actually kind of surprised I even did it right; I hadn't practiced in a while."

"It's so good to know that my life is in such capable hands," I said sarcastically, still smiling at him.

"Hey, I did it right, didn't I? And if you ever start choking, I know the Heimlich as well."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Well, I'm going to go eat some breakfast, are you going to come eat?"

"Yeah, I better eat with you; if I get choked, you can save me." He laughed. "I'll be down in just a few minutes."

"Okay, I'll see you when you get down there," he said before leaving.

I waited until he had left, closing the door as he went, and I heard his footsteps fade down the hall, before I did the mature thing and jumped on my bed while shrieking happily.

It was turning out to be a very good day.


	6. In The Dark

Disclaimer: Same stuff; don't own it, don't make any money off it. The only reward I get is through my reviews. Bats Lashes So please, drop me a review to say how I'm doing so far. Much love, and please enjoy.

* * *

"Bye furry-face, see you later," I said to Logan as I gave him a kiss on the cheek and tried to rush out the door. But he grabbed my arm and pulled me back.

"Whoa darlin', where d'you think you're goin'?"

"I'm going to Boston with Scott," I said sheepishly.

"Excuse me?" he said, his eyebrow sitting high on his forehead.

"He has to interview a kid and his parents there and he asked me to go with him."

"And you said yes?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?"

"'Cause you didn't ask me first."

"Logan, we've had this conversation before; I'm an adult and I get to make my own decisions. Least of which would be going on an interview with Scott. He asked me for a favor, and in case you don't remember, he sort of saved my life."

"I don't like you bein' alone with him."

I cocked my own eyebrow at him. "Why? It's not like anything's going to happen."

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Because…Scott thinks of me differently than I think of him, okay? I'm just your nineteen-year-old daughter who looks and acts like you, except with a bit of a better attitude," I said. "And he's still in love with his wife."

"Jean's dead," he said, looking me in the eye.

"I know that. I _saw_ her die."

"So did I, I was there. And you move on. It may take him a little longer than me, but he's movin' on, too."

"Yeah, well, just keep in mind that he's not 'moving on' with me."

"He better not or I'll kill him."

I rolled my eyes. "Keep your claws put away, Wolvie; I don't think you have anything to worry about."

He didn't let go of my arm completely, but he loosened his grip. "How long are you gonna' be gone?"

I shrugged with my free shoulder. "Probably a while. It's like, four hours there and four hours back, plus the time it takes to interview him. So probably all day, I guess. I don't know."

He was quiet for a moment, studying my eyes and face. "Just be careful, all right?"

I nodded at him. "Yeah, I will be."

"You need any money?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know."

He let go of my arm and pulled out his wallet. As he was pulling out a twenty dollar bill from inside, I saw the photo of the two of us together that Hank had taken earlier that year and smiled. "Here," he said, handing me the money. I took it and wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. "It's just a twenty darlin', don't get too excited." He laughed.

"I know," I said. "I just wanted to hug you."

He hugged me back, holding me tighter. "You tell Summers to be careful, alright? You tell him I said to take care of you."

"I will. And we'll be back tonight."

He kissed the side of my head, on my temple, and held me to him tightly for a few moments more before letting go of me. He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear, pushing it away from my face. "Your hair's gettin' long," he observed, brushing his knuckle down my cheek.

"I know. I like it this way." He was only trying to delay me from leaving, but I played along.

"Yeah, I like it, too," he said, dropping another kiss on top of my head.

"I have to go. Scott's waiting in the garage."

He nodded. "All right, be good."

"I will be," I said. "I love you."

He gave me a small smile. "Right back at'cha, kid."

I hurried out to the garage as quickly as I could with my sprained ankle. Normally, I would have taken my time getting all dressed up and put on a pair of high heels to try to impress Scott. But the man had seen me at my worst and I figured it wouldn't matter if I was dressed to the nines. That and Hank had told me I had to wear flat shoes that laced up when going anywhere. So I had pulled on my boots that went with my X-Men uniform with a pair of blue jeans and hoped I didn't look like a juvenile delinquent.

Once I got to the garage, I saw Scott standing against one his cars. He smiled at me. "You look nice," he said.

I felt my cheeks flush hot immediately and smiled back at him. "Thank you." And all thoughts of looking like a delinquent went out of my mind.

"Did you tell Logan you were leaving?"

"Yeah," I said, stopping right in front of him.

I saw one of his eyebrows raise above his glasses. "And he said it was okay?"

"Yes, but he said to tell you to be careful and to take care of me."

He smiled at me again. "I'll do my best," he said. "Are you ready to leave?"

"Yeah, let's go." He turned around and opened the car door for me. "Thank you," I said, climbing into my seat.

"You're welcome," he said, closing the door for me. I watched him go around the front of the car and get into seat beside me. As the garage door slid open, he looked over at me. "Do you like the Rolling Stones?"

I felt my smile widen and I nodded. "Yeah. My dad and I used to listen to them when my mom wasn't around."

"Did she not like them?"

"She didn't like the idea of me listening to rock music."

"But your dad didn't care?"

I was about to reply when my eyes went blurry. My sight began to shift. And when my eyes slid back into focus, I wasn't in the car with Scott; I was in a stranger's living room with an adult couple and a teenaged boy.

They were arguing.

"Why can't you understand that I'm sixteen, I'm almost an adult, and I should be able to make my own decisions!" the boy yelled.

"Because you're _not_ an adult; you have two years before you will be. And as long as you live under our roof, you'll go by our rules," his father said.

"Then I'll move out!" the boy yelled back.

"You're not moving out, you're not old enough," his mother said.

"This is so _stupid_!" the boy screamed. "If I can't move out and I can't do what I want, then what _can_ I do?"

"You can go to your room," his father said firmly, pointing towards the staircase behind the teenager. "And I don't want you to come down until we tell you to. Is that understood?"

"Why don't I just stay up there forever? It's not like either of you care about me anyway."

"Honey, we _do_ care about you, that's why we're worried," his mother said.

"You're such a liar, both of you are. And I hate living here!" he said, then turned around and ran up the set of stairs his father had pointed to.

He went down a hall, passing two doors before finally going into the third room, then slammed the door and locked it behind him. I watched him as he went to his dresser, flung open the top drawer, and dug through it until he pulled out a small plastic bag filled with a white powder. I saw him take the powder and pour a small pile onto the little mirror on top of his dresser. He formed it into a small line with another object. Then he rolled up a dollar bill from his wallet and snorted the line of coke. He shook his head and snorted again, making sure he got it all. Then he turned on his TV, sat on his bed, and began playing video games.

My eyes went blurry again. My sight shifted. And when everything came into focus, I was back in the car with Scott.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, it was just a vision."

"What did you see?"

I shook my head. "Nothing important," I said with a short, forced smile. "Let's go."

Although the drive to Boston went well and Scott and I had a fun time talking and listening to the Stones, my mind wasn't entirely focused on the trip. It kept wandering. Mostly to the boy I had seen in my vision. I didn't understand how his parents could be so oblivious to what he was doing. Didn't they realize that there was something seriously wrong with him and that he needed help? I just didn't get how you could _not_ know what your child's doing. Maybe it was because my parents had been so protective of me, and even Logan was to a certain degree, that I just assumed all parents should be that way. It seemed natural and right, however annoying it may have been, and I just couldn't quite understand how someone could allow their child to self destruct in front of their eyes and not do anything about it. As much as I enjoyed the freedom I had, I hope with everything that I had in me that if I _ever_ became like that boy, Logan would lock me in my room until I got some sense. Or at the very least, I would want him to smack me upside my head and tell me to stop being stupid. I never wanted to be that way, though, because the idea of not being able to control my own thoughts bothered me. If my mind and whole thought process was influenced or slowed down in any way, it would scare me. I wouldn't be able to handle that.

"So how's school going?" Scott asked after he told me that we were about ten minutes away from the house.

I let out a sigh. "It's okay; it's just hard for me right now to get back into going to classes. And I sort of like, _really_ suck at math. But it's not _too_ bad. Nothing I can't get through."

"Good," he said. "If you need some help with your math, I might be able to help you."

"Great, my pre-calculus class is killing me; I'm really going to be in bad shape when I have to do the real thing."

"Oh, uh…"

"Are you good at calculus?"

"No, actually," he said with a laugh. "Sorry."

I let out a small laugh. "It's fine. At least I'm not the only one."

"I'm sure Hank can help you. He knows all about that sort of stuff."

"That's because he's a genius."

"Yeah, I know," he said. "Sometimes he can make me feel pretty stupid, especially when I think something's difficult and it makes perfect sense to him."

I laughed again. "So I'm also not the only one who feels that way, too."

He smiled at me. "You shouldn't feel stupid; you're an extremely smart person."

"Well, as much as I appreciate that, it's not entirely true. I'm not that smart; I just act like I am."

His smile widened. "You do a good job."

I smiled back at him. "Thank you very much."

He was quiet for a moment as he made a few turns down different roads. "What about the other students, do you get along with them?"

"Yeah, we get along okay, I guess. I'm not exactly the type who goes in all cheery and wants to know what everyone's name is, you know? I'm more…"

"Like Logan?" he suggested.

"Exactly. I only use my social and people skills when absolutely necessary. It's a strongly liberating feeling to not have to be that disgustingly happy, bubbly girl who just loves the whole freakin' world and everyone in it."

"You _don't_ love the world and everyone in it?" he asked teasingly with a smile.

"No, I don't like most people…like at all. I'm just _not_ a people person."

"You seem like you are."

"That's because I always acted like I was."

"And you just acted like you were to make your mother happy, right?"

"Yeah," I said, staring out my door window. "Pretty much."

"Does it feel better to not have to pretend anymore?" he asked seriously.

I looked over at him and shook my head. "It's scary."

"What's scary about it?"

"Finally being able to me only to find out I don't know who _I_ am. I mean, she gave me a life and a personality. She gave me a role to play and I played it. And I did it well. But when I left home, I didn't have anymore excuses, but I didn't clung to them, or my real mother, to try to use them for why I was the way I was, or am, or whatever. But when I told my parents who Logan was and why I wanted to stay at the school, I couldn't use them anymore. And not it's just…everything's so scary. I don't know what to believe and I almost miss someone _telling_ me what I'm supposed to believe."

"You're supposed to believe what feels right. Not everyone has the same beliefs or faith, that's why there's so many different religions. The important thing is to find what you connect with and go with it. You're still you; you'll figure it out eventually."

"But I may not have that long to figure it out."

He looked over at me and I felt a static energy of panic and worry crackling off his body. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't you have that long?"

"I nearly died this week, which has been like, the third time this _year_. Something or someone somewhere doesn't seem to want me to live."

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right? Maybe you're not meant to die; you're just meant to be a stronger person."

I shook my head. "I don't know. It's just confusing," I said. "Have you ever been close to dying?"

"Yeah," he said, looking over at me. "A few times. It's what you get when you're the leader of a team of people trained to fight against guys who shoot flames out of their eyes, or can turn the ground you're standing on into quicksand with a snap of their fingers."

"What happened to you? What did you see when you were that close?"

"I saw my parents, the Professor…Jean."

"Do you think she saw you when she died?"

He was quiet for a few moments as he thought and slowly pulled to a stop in front of a red light. "I hope so."

"What do you think happens to us when we die?"

"I honestly don't know, Jayden."

"What do you think happened to her? Where do you think she went?"

"Hopefully somewhere nice. She deserved it."

"Do you think she went to Heaven?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Sometimes I believe that place is real, or at least I hope it is anyway, and if it is, I hope she went there. But sometimes, when I'm out in the garden, the wind will blow and I'll catch a hint of something that reminds me of her perfume, or how her hair smelled, and I wonder if we ever _go_ anywhere. Maybe we just stay here and become a part of everything else." He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "What do you think?"

"I don't know either. The whole thing confuses me."

"What did your parents believe?"

"I don't know; they never really talked about it. I think my dad was raised Catholic, but I'm not real sure."

"Well, I'd love to tell you what happens when we die, but I don't really know. Maybe I don't want to."

"Do you think it makes a difference what we do here while we're alive to determine what happens to us once we die?"

The red light turned green and it took him a few seconds to see the change. Then he started driving once again. "I think it's important for us to try to do good things for ourselves and I think we should always try to help other people when we can. But whether or not what we do actually makes a difference, I don't know."

"Does death scare you?" I asked.

"More than anything," he answered serious and quietly. "Not so much for myself, though, but for my family. The idea of losing anyone else…" He paused as he took a breath, trying to control his voice and emotions. "The idea of losing anyone else in my family scares me so much that I almost feel it like a pain in my chest at just the thought of it. I don't know that I could deal with that now, or anywhere in the near future." He let out a sigh. "I'm not a strong enough person."

"Yeah you are. You're a very strong person, Scott. After your wife died, you got back up, helped re-build the school and started teaching again. That…_amazes_ me."

He looked over at me and gave me a small, weak smile. "And you did the same when you thought Logan had died."

I shook my head as I sat back in my seat. "No, I tried killing myself. It was only after that didn't work that I decided to pull myself together. And you were the reason why I did that," I admitted. "I thought if you could do it, with everything you went through, then I could, too. You were the only reason why I smiled when I thought he was dead."

He was quiet for a minute and I suddenly felt embarrassed for telling him everything I had. Maybe it had been too much, too personal. I felt my heart begin to pound as I tried to gauge how he felt, but I couldn't get a reading from him. I turned my head and looked out the window, almost hoping that he would just ignore the fact that I had said anything.

"I appreciate that," he finally said. "I like being the reason why you smile when you're sad. But I'd like to be that all the time, even when you're happy." I looked back over to him. My heart rate sped up once again and I could hear it pounding loudly and I could see it pounding in my chest as well. But it was no longer from embarrassment; it was from what he was saying. "You're a good friend Jayden, and seeing you smile makes _me_ happy."

Although my heart began to slow down, I felt my cheeks blush. "I'm glad," I said, turning back towards my window, once again feeling embarrassed.

I had been stupid enough to assume that he thought of me as more than a friend. But he didn't. And I was more confused than ever.

About everything.

* * *

"Well, this is it," Scott said as we pulled up to a house.

He parked in front of it and we both took a moment to look up at its brick exterior. It looked like a house that would fit in perfectly with all the houses in my neighborhood back in California. And something about that thought made me hate the house.

"Are you nervous?"

I looked over at him. "Should I be?" I asked, confused.

He shrugged. "Sometimes the kids get a little excited when we tell them that they're 'special'. They suddenly feel the need to show off. You have to be on guard at all times, in case they get out of hand."

"Well freakin' A, dude, you didn't tell me _that_ this morning," I said, staring at him. I watched as his very serious face began to crack and he smiled. That's when I realized he was joking. I gave in and smiled took. "Just so you know, that was really mean," I said, shaking my head.

"Sorry, you're just so easy," he said and I saw his cheeks immediately turn the color of his ruby quarts lenses in his glasses. "Uh…I didn't mean it _that_ way."

"I see how it is; you think I'm easy."

"No, I didn't mean it like that."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"You know I didn't mean it that way, right? I just meant…"

"You just meant what? Because within the past few months you've called me cheap _and_ easy. Should I tell Logan what you think about me? I'm sure he'd find it fascinating."

"He really would kill me, wouldn't he?" he said with the hint of a smile. I saw his dimples and I couldn't help but smile back. "I'm sorry; I don't think you're cheap _or_ easy. I just meant that you were too easy to scare."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Summers."

"Knowing that you're not mad at me helps me sleep at night," he said. "_Rivers_."

"So you think about me while you're in bed?" It was my turn to blush as an awkward silence fell over us. "Don't answer that."

"Yeah, I wasn't planning on it."

"Good," I said, feeling the heat from my cheeks flushing out towards my ears. My whole face felt on fire and I wanted to crawl under a rock.

He turned to me and tilted my chin up with his hand and turned my head towards him, making my heart jump at the unexpected contact. "Are we even now?" he asked with a warm smile and a soft laugh.

I couldn't help the giddy laugh that escaped my throat at the expression on his face. "Yeah, we're even."

"And you forgive me for accidentally calling you easy?"

I smiled as he moved his hand from my chin and I nodded slowly. "Yeah, I forgive you."

He leaned in a little closer. "Are you ready to go convince a kid and his parents that our home is the right place for them?"

"I'm not sure how good I'll be at convincing anyone of anything, but I'll do my best."

He smiled at me again where I could see his dimples. "You'll do great; I have faith in you."

"Well then, let's do it," I said. "Don't touch that one either."

He held up his hand defensively. "I wasn't planning on it."

"Good, let's just go before I say anything else to make me seem like a dirty minded jackass."

"Like father like daughter."

"Yeah, that's what worries me."

He laughed. "Come on, let's go. If you behave yourself and leave out the double entendres during the interview, I'll buy you lunch on the way home."

I shook my head and came to the realization that the blush in my cheeks wasn't going to go away anytime soon. "I'll try."

"Good. And if you make it through the whole thing without any slipups, I might even buy you an ice cream."

"Well, I'll be on my best behavior, then," I said sarcastically with a laugh as I opened my door and climbed out of the car.

He followed, getting out on his side, and then pointed at me from across the top of the car. "I'm being serious here. I'll buy you a pint of Half Baked."

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "How do you know what kind of ice cream I eat?"

He shrugged as he closed his car door. "You only eat it about three times a week," he said walking around the car to where I was standing. "That and we _live_ together."

"But the fact that you actually pay attention to what I eat is a little weird."

"Why?" he asked as we began walking up their driveway.

"I don't know. Maybe because no one's ever paid _that_ much attention to me, like, ever," I said with a bit of a laugh.

"Get use to it. With as beautiful as you are, guys are going to start doing it all the time."

I felt my already burning cheeks burn hotter and I couldn't think of anything to say. So I just smiled shyly and continued walking beside him up the front walkway.

While I was in my love crazed stupor and unable to talk, I thought it would be best to look around and take in my surroundings. I watched and listened for anything that might be wrong, or out of place. No matter how far away from New York I got, I was still nervous and paranoid. I still looked, and watched, and waited for the last of the eleven men to find me. All of his friends, his family, were dead. He had been planning on and looking forward to raping and torturing me. I grasped that every night I had a nightmare and saw him. I felt a twisted wave of excited energy pulsating off him and it made me sick to my stomach every time. And the sickness fed my fear, only succeeding in making me even more scared every time I saw him, so that whenever I went outside the school grounds, I felt an anxiety of a person constantly expecting to see the man who wanted to kill them. It hadn't gotten any better, either. I was just as scared then as the day it happened. I only pretended not to be. I didn't speak about it, so only Logan knew that I was still scared, but even he didn't realize that I was absolutely terrified. But I never spoke about it because if I believed in anything, it would be that spoken fears come true, so if I said what I was afraid of, it would happen.

As I walked to the front door of a strange family's house, I gave another thought to what Hank had told me about positive and negative thoughts producing their own reactions. Maybe he was right, because whenever I said I was scared of something, it tended to happen. Maybe by actually vocalizing it, I put it out into the universe and because I concentrated so much attention on it from my fear, the universe thought that that had been what I _wanted_. Hank had told me once that what we fear, we create. Maybe that's what was happening to me.

I let out a sigh. Nothing made sense, I was completely confused by everything, especially Scott, and I was getting ready to put on a happy face to try to convince someone I had never met in my life that my home, a school for mutants, would be a good place for them to send their kid.

I watched Scott ring the doorbell and realized that the ibuprofen Hank had given me before I left was wearing off and my foot was starting to hurt again.

_Brilliant, just freakin' brilliant_, I thought.

Scott and I stood at the front door for about a minute before someone answered. It was a blonde haired girl who looked about twelve or thirteen. She smiled, introduced herself as Sadie and invited us in. As she led us through her house to her living room, she explained that her mother had gone across the street to a neighbor's house to get her father. Apparently he worked part time as an EMT and the neighbor's two year old son had passed out what playing in the front yard. She said that he was okay; he had only passed out because he held his breath when he got angry and the lack of oxygen got to him.

I decided to never have kids.

Everything seemed to be going fine as she led us through her home, telling us what had been going on. And I found that I slipped back into my happy, outgoing girl, fake persona faster than I would have liked to admit. Scott and I truly seemed like the All American couple as we entered the house in Boston, both of us looking the part. But when we reached the living room, I felt like a load of bricks had been dumped on me at the sudden realization that I had seen that living room before. I had been _in_ that living room.

It was the room I had seen in my vision that morning.

"Do you have a brother?" I asked the girl as Scott and I sat on the love seat across from the couch.

"Yeah, he's upstairs in his room," she said. "I thought he was the one you came to see?"

"He is," Scott answered. "I just forgot to tell her that." He indicated to me. "I guess that's kind of important, isn't it?" He smiled.

Sadie smiled back at him and I felt a wave of energy roll off her. She thought he was cute. "It's fine. I forget stuff all the time," she said. "Mom and dad kind of wanted to talk to you first, but I could probably go get him, if you want?"

"No, it's okay, we can wait for your parents," Scott said. "Do you get along with your brother?"

She shrugged. "Kind of. Sometimes he can be really cool, but other times he's just a total jerk. He has like, these weird mood swings, or whatever, and so I never know when he's going to be nice to me or mean."

"Is he a pretty nice guy when he's in one of his good moods?"

"Yeah, sometimes he takes me to the movies, or the mall, or something. He took me bowling last week, but some guys he said were some of his friends made him go with them outside for a while and sort of ruined it. When he came back, he was in a bad mood."

"Would you miss him if he moved out and went to live in New York?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "I mean, he can be a jerk sometimes, but he can be pretty nice, too, you know? He sort of looks out for me and stuff."

"Would you want to come visit him if he moved?"

"I don't know. Would you be there if I ever came?"

"Yeah, we both would," he said, once again indicating to me. "We live there."

"Oh," she said, the smile falling from her face. "Are you two married?"

_Oh how I wish_, I thought.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, we're not married; we're just friends," he answered and I felt another pain roll through me. We were just friends. _Just_. As I felt like my heart was being ripped from my chest and spit on, he looked over at me and smiled. "But you never know what might happen in the next few months," he joked.

That man seriously made me want to slam my head into a wall.

"Well, my parents should be here in a minute, do either of you want anything to drink?"

"Yeah, can I have a drink of water, please?" I asked.

"Sure. Hold on a second and I'll be right back."

"What's going on?" Scott asked once she had left the room.

"What's wrong with this kid?"

"She seems fine to me. Why?"

"Not her, her brother, the kid we're here to see. His parents want to send him away because he's acting out, right? I mean, his sister said he's been having mood swings, did his parents mention anything about that?"

"They said he was acting out and thought it might have something to do with problems at school. They said he was a bright kid but think he's hanging out with a bad crowd. They thought if he moved to the school he might have a better chance of staying out of trouble."

I shook my head. "He's on drugs."

"What?"

"He's on drugs," I repeated.

He cocked an eyebrow at me from over his glasses. "That's a pretty strong accusation," he said. "Why do you think that?"

"Because I saw him."

"When? Just now?"

"No, when we were in the car earlier this morning."

"How do you know it was him?"

"Because I saw him fighting with his parents here in this room."

"Just because he was fighting with his parents doesn't mean he's on drugs."

"No, I saw him. He went to his room and snorted a line of coke after they got done arguing. That's why he's having mood swings."

He twisted his mouth in thought for a moment. "If that's the case, then I don't know how to deal with that. We don't have a program at the mansion to help kids get off drugs, not yet at least, and we can't have him there if he still wants to use them. That would put the other students in danger."

"So what are we going to do?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I guess you'll just have to tell the Professor what you saw when we get home."

"But what about his parents? Should I tell them?"

"How would you explain it if you did? They don't know we're mutants."

"I…" I shook my head. "I don't know," I said, "but I can't not say something, can I? I mean, that would be wrong too, right?"

"I have no idea. This has never happened before."

"Well that's reassuring," I said dryly.

"Why don't we just see how the interview goes and when it's over, we can go out and talk about it?"

I let out a sigh and ran my fingers through my hair. "Yeah, okay."

"We can call the Professor and talk to him about what's going on and ask him what he thinks, if that would make you feel better?"

"I think I would like that."

He gave me a small smile and reached his hand over to mine and gave it a soft squeeze. "Don't worry about it, okay?" he said, and I could feel him looking at me from behind his glasses.

"Yeah." I nodded. "No worries," I said as the girl came back.

She handed me a mustard colored coffee cup that looked like it could have possibly been made by her or her brother when they were younger, and if I hadn't seen the name of the brand painted on the inside of the cup, that's exactly what I would have thought. I took a small sip of the water before setting the cup down onto the coffee table in front of me. I wasn't actually thirsty; I had only asked for it so that she would leave and Scott and I could talk privately for a moment.

"Thank you," I told her with a smile. "Those are cool cups."

"Yeah, my mom and I picked them out. My dad hates them."

I forced I laugh that I hoped sounded natural. "My mom and dad never agreed on stuff like that either. But I almost always took my dad's side."

"Are you from New York?"

"No, I'm from California."

"Cool. Like near Hollywood, or something?"

I smiled. "Not quite. I lived in the northern part, closer to Oregon. I've never been to Hollywood."

"Really?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Do you _like_ living in New York? I don't if I would want to live there if I lived in California."

"I actually prefer New York much more. I don't ever want to move back."

"Did you move just so you could work at the school you want Brandon to go to?"

"Uh, not quite," I said. "My dad works there, so I moved out to be with him."

"Are your parents divorced?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Are they divorced? You said that you used to live in California with your parents, and then you said you moved out here to be with your dad."

"Oh, sorry, no. My parents aren't my real parents; they adopted me when I was younger. My real father lives in New York and I moved in with him."

"But I thought he said the two of you lived together?" she said, pointing to Scott.

"We do. He and my father work together at the school, where we all live. It's a boarding school, so there's about two hundred of us there, including students _and_ teachers."

"Wow, that's a lot of people for one house."

I laughed. "That's what I thought, too. I went from a house with just my parents and me to a mansion with nearly two hundred people. It took a while for me to get used to it."

"So it really is a mansion?" she asked curiously.

"Yeah, and the kids live there and go to school there, too," Scott said.

"Cool."

After another minute or so of small talk with Sadie, her parents finally came back. And sure enough, they were the couple I had seen in my vision from that morning. They introduced themselves and apologized for being gone before excusing their daughter from the room. That's when they got serious talking about the school. They asked about the price, the extra curricular activities, visiting hours and how he would be disciplined should he get in trouble.

Scott rattled off some numbers for a price the Professor had given him and knew they could afford, and showed them a brochure with all the extra activities listed. Then he explained that there had to be appointments made for all visits and that it depended on what Brandon did to determine how he would be punished. They would try detention first and if that didn't work, they were usually made to do things like wash windows or clean the bathrooms. He also mentioned something about a camping trip where the 'repeat offenders' were made to rough it in the woods for a few days, but nothing too drastic.

I wasn't really paying attention, because I was feeling crazy amounts of energy coming from upstairs. So much that it made it difficult for me to give my full attention to the boy's parents, Janice and Ian Tawns, as they had introduced themselves. All I could do was attempt to sort through all the emotions that were running through my body and mind and try to pick through them to see which were mine and which belong to him. As I was nearly done righting them, I caught the end of what Scott was saying.

"The top of the school allows access to our teacher Ororro Munroe's flower garden that's on the roof. The floor under that is where the rooms for the students and teachers are located. The ground floor has all of the class rooms, the kitchen, dining hall, gym, living room, rec room and a few other rooms in it. Then in the bottom floor we have the infirmary and a few other things."

I smiled to myself. He had left out the small fact that the 'other things' included a top notch virtual reality training center called the Danger Room as well as a hanger that held a jet called the Blackbird that only a handful of other organizations owned, all of which were top-secret military groups that no one even knew existed and only flew them during black-ops. Just a few _small_ things he left out. Just as he had when convincing my parents that the school was right for me.

"I don't know," Mrs. Tawns said, looking over the brochure. "He's never been that far away from home for that long before."

"I completely understand," I said. "My parents were the same way. I had only been out of California twice before I moved there."

She looked up at me. "And they liked it?"

I nodded. "My mother fell in love with the place. But she and my dad went back home because they knew it would do me good. And if they could let me go with as overprotective as they were of me, I'm sure you can find a way to let Brandon go, too."

"They were protective of you?"

I continued to nod. "Yeah, very much so. I was their only child; I had been away from home only once before without them and they were worried about me. But the school is a great atmosphere for someone to grow up in. All of the students are wonderful and the teachers are fantastic. We have some of the best in the country, and they know how to keep the student's interest in the topic they're teaching. Not to mention I think it'll be great for Brandon to be around other talented and gifted kids like him that are his age," I said.

"I'm just afraid that right now, with him at this age, he might get into a bit of…_trouble_," Mr. Tawns said. "You know how teenage boys are."

Scott laughed. "Absolutely," he said. "But the students at our school actually show a significantly lower percentage of getting into trouble, compared to that of kids at other boarding schools. Although there are almost a couple hundred of them, we make it a point to get to know each of the kids personally as well as their families. It's time consuming, but definitely worth it. It's not just a school for them or us, it's a home. Don't you agree, Jayden?"

"Yeah, completely. I went from being an only child living with my parents to suddenly finding meeting all of these amazing people and having opportunities that I never would have imagined myself having. It's more than just a student teacher atmosphere in the house; we're all like a family, which has been absolutely fantastic for me, personally."

"What kind of opportunities?" Mrs. Tawns asked.

"The school's chemistry and math teacher used to lecture at a college not too far from the mansion and he was able to get me into the classes I wanted a little bit last minute. I've also been fortunate enough to help out with the chemistry classes as well as a few other things I wouldn't have been able to do at home."

"I don't know," she said again.

"I think if you give Brandon this chance to have a bit of freedom in an environment where his actions will be appropriately rewarded or punished, depending on what it is, will give him a great chance to grow up and start taking responsibility for himself and his decisions. He'll have to learn how to manage his time and allowance on his own. He's going to be an adult soon and I think if you give him the opportunity, you'll be surprised by how much he'll grow. Like I said before; the school's a fantastic atmosphere for a teenager to grow up in," I said. "And I think if my parents can do it, you can, too. You just have to think about Brandon and what's best for him. If he's getting into trouble with the friends he has here, then it may be better for him to move away and be surrounded by other teenagers who have similar interests as him with little chance to go off and get into trouble. With everything there is to do at the school, there's not much need to ever leave. And if they're on the school grounds, he'll have constant supervision."

She nodded. "It's something Ian and I need to talk about with Brandon, is you don't mind?"

"Absolutely not, take your time," Scott said, standing. "Miss Rivers and I will go outside and let the three of you talk it over."

I stood up beside him and we shook their hands before letting ourselves out of the house. We walked back to the car and I leaned up against the side of it. He smiled at me.

"What?" I asked, using my hand to shield my eyes from the sun so that I could see him better.

He shook his head and kept smiling. "I just didn't realize you were such a good salesperson. You're really pitching the school hard."

I shrugged and smiled back. "I did used to be a Girl Scout, you know. I was the top seller of Girl Scout cookies two years in a row and in my second year I broke all the other records."

He came and leaned against the car beside me. "So you were a charming kid, huh?"

I looked over at him and feigned a look of shock. "Why? Don't you think I'm charming still?"

He smiled, showing his dimples. "I think you're a very charming woman," he said and I felt my blush from earlier return to my cheeks with a burning heat. "I just didn't know I was dealing with a pro. You'll have to start coming with me on all my interviews."

"So does that mean I get ice cream?"

His smile widened and he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "After that, I'll give you anything you want."

I was strongly tempted to ask for his heart, but thought better of it. Instead I tried to just relish the feeling of his arm around my shoulder and commit to memory how natural it felt to be that close to him. "Well then, in that case, I think I might save that for later. If I can have _anything_, I don't know that I'm going to waste it on ice cream."

He laughed as he moved his hand back and forth across my back in an almost absentmindedly comforting way, as if he wasn't really sure that he was doing it, but wanting me to know I was doing well all at the same time. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to make a memory of that moment in time strong enough to ensure that I would never forget it. But my memory making was cut short with a wave of panic and anger I knew didn't belong to me. My body tensed up and I felt Scott's hand stop moving.

"What is it?"

I looked up at the house. "Something's wrong."

"What?"

I shook my head. "I don't know," I said, taking a step closer to the house.

Although I was no longer completely deaf in my right ear, I still couldn't hear very well out of it. And my senses picked right then to be on the blink, so I could hear even less than a normal person. That also meant that my vision was only normal as well, and I couldn't seen anything that seemed to be off. But I was getting hit by wave after wave of emotion until my mind was opened up to the image of Brandon throwing a lamp against the wall and breaking it.

"He's pissed," I muttered.

"What's he doing?"

"Throwing things," I said, trying to will my mind back into the house. But I couldn't; it didn't work like that for me. Then I caught another image of him. "Get behind the car," I told Scott, moving to the other side.

"Why? What's going on?"

"He's coming outside and we don't know what his mutation is," I said, ducking slightly behind the car, but still able to see the front door. "And he's pissed," I repeated.

Scott followed my lead and five seconds later, Brandon came storming out the door and down the front steps. My eyesight shifted to a stronger sense for only a couple of seconds and I got to see his eyes. He wasn't in his right mind. He was still high from the coke he had snorted earlier and this wasn't something he was all too happy about. Scott put one of his hands on my shoulder, preparing to push me down and out of danger, if he needed. We both waited anxiously as we watched him and I had a fleeting thought of how dangerous it would be to just let a pissed off, drug addicted teenage mutant go off on his own when I saw him melt right in front of my eyes. I stood and saw a silver puddle where he had been standing.

Then it moved.

"Tell me I'm not the only one seeing that," I said.

"You're not the only one seeing that."

Scott and I watched as the puddle continued to move, rolling down the street and into a water drain by the sidewalk.

"Tell me he didn't just go into the sewer."

"Sorry, but that he did just do," he said, walking from beside the car over to the manhole on the side of the street. He lifted it up.

"We have to go in and get him, don't we?"

"Yep."

"Brilliant," I said dryly just as I caught the sight of Mrs. Tawns running out the front door.

"Where did he go?" she asked.

"Down there," Scott said, pointing into the dark manhole.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Why would he do that?"

Scott looked up and raised an eyebrow at me. I let out a heavy sigh. "Ma'am, your son is on drugs."

She looked at me, offended. "Excuse me? Why would you think that?"

"A very reliable source saw him."

"No, that doesn't make sense. Brandon has some attitude problems, but he's a _good_ kid."

"If you check the top drawer of his dresser in his bedroom, then you'll find what I'm talking about." She shook her head, wanting to protest, but I held up my hand, stopping her. "You and your husband need to call some places for him to get some treatment. Mr. Summers and I are going to go down there and see if we can't find him and talk him into coming back up."

"But I can't send my son away."

"If you don't deal with this now, you'll never be able to," Scott said. "You don't want you son to end up dead or killing someone else, Mrs. Tawns. None of us want that. Just call someone you think can help you and Miss Rivers and I will do the best we can to get your son back to you. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. Go back inside with your husband and we'll do the best we can."

She was reluctant but eventually she did as Scott said and went inside. Then he dug out two flash lights from an emergency kit in the back of the car. I was quick enough to think and tuck my pant legs into my boots so that they wouldn't be soaked on the trip home. Then we prepared to go wading through the sewer.

"Ladies first," he said, motioning towards the hole.

I quirked an eyebrow at him. "You're freakin' kidding me, right?"

"I have to pull the cover back over the hole once we get down there. If you don't go first you'll have to do that while holding a flash light and dealing with your sprained ankle, then you'll have to climb down in the dark," he said. "Can you handle that?"

I let out a heavy sigh. "No, probably not," I said, thinking that at the very least, the upside of the situation would allow me a nice view of his backside as he climbed down. I smiled at that thought. "Alright then, ladies first."

I let out another sigh before I began my way down the small, rusty metal ladder. I was about midway down when I noticed that the step I was standing on was wet. That's when I felt my footing slip and I began to fall. Before I could turn around and relax my body enough to land on my feet, I felt myself landing in the foot deep water.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt anything?" Scott called down.

"Just my pride," I called back.

"You know what they say; pride cometh before the fall." I heard him laugh and rolled my eyes. "Did you land anything?"

"Yeah, all this sewer crap."

"Literal sewer crap, or figurative?"

"I'm hoping just figurative."

"Are you sure you didn't hurt anything?" he asked as I stood up.

"Yeah," I said, turning on the flash light that I had managed to hold onto. I shone it up at him. "Care to join me, Slim?"

I saw him smile down at me. "Yeah," he said.

Then he began down the ladder, too. After climbing down a few steps, he pulled the lid back over the man hole, covering us in a blanket of darkness, with the only light coming from the holes in the lid and my single flashlight.

"Watch out," I said. "One of the rungs is really-" From the beam of my flashlight, I saw Scott began to slip and before I could do anything, he was falling backwards and landing in the water, just as I had. "Slippery," I said, finishing my sentence.

I heard him laugh and the sound of it in the darkness made my heart flutter. "Well, at least we're handling this in a professional manner," he joked as he stood up.

I shone my flashlight so that he could find his in the water. "Well, you know what they say; Pride cometh before the fall," I shot back at him with a smirk. I saw him smile and shake his head. "Did you hurt anything?"

"No, I think I'm good."

"Apparently not good enough," I joked.

"Well I'll be giving a free show in my room later to show how 'good' I can be, if you want to come?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

My face began to burn immediately as I laughed. "And Summers gets bold in the dark," I said, shaking my head. "Nice."

"What? Did you think I was going to let you get away with all the innuendos and double entendres and let you win? You've still got a lot to learn, Rivers," he said, his smile shining brightly in the dark.

"That wasn't an innuendo; that was an invitation."

"One that Logan will never know about, right?" he said.

"Right."

"Actually, come to think of it, you probably shouldn't mention…_any_ of today to Logan."

I laughed again. "No, absolutely not," I said as we began walking through the waters. "Not that I would be able to tell him without blushing."

"Oh, so you actually _do_ get embarrassed about all of this?"

"Yes, I do have a conscience and stuff, you know?"

"Really?"

"Yes, his name is Jiminy Cricket."

"That's Pinocchio's conscience."

"Oh, well, maybe I only imagined him."

I heard him laugh. "So you have no moral compass and you're delusional. Should I feel safe down here with you? You're not going to kill me or anything, are you?"

"No," I said. "People saw you come down here with me, there's too many witnesses."

He laughed again, only louder, and I heard it echo off the walls around us. "That's great. I fell much better now. Thanks."

Walking through the sewers looking for a teenage boy wasn't exactly how I had planned to spend my day. But with Scott there, it somehow didn't seem too bad.


	7. Into The Light

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, Fox or the title of this song; but I did save a bunch of money by staying at a Holiday Inn. : )

* * *

Scott and I walked in the sewer for about ten minutes without talking, the only sounds coming from the sewer itself, the traffic above, and our heavy footsteps as we tried to walk through the dark drain and remain as alert as possible.

"I keep feeling like a Ninja Turtle is going to pop out in a second. Didn't they live in the sewers?"

He laughed. "Yeah, they did," he said. "I'm surprised you even know who the Ninja Turtles are, though."

"Why? You didn't realize I was that dorky."

"No, I figured that out already." We both laughed. "I just wouldn't think that your mom would let you watch those kinds of movies."

"She wouldn't. I had a cousin who was obsessed with them."

"You _had_ a cousin?"

"Yeah, he died a few years ago. He was quite a bit older than me but he had some mental problems and there were some complications with that."

"Is that why your parents were so worried about you? Because they thought you had some sort of psychosis problem?"

Before I had ran away from home the year before to find Logan, my parents brought a doctor to our house to test my sanity. My visions had gotten worse and they thought something was wrong with me. Turned out that the doctor's visit served as a catalyst for me meeting Logan, and in a turning twist of fate, he ended up being the first person I told that Logan was my father. It was during a session we had in his office where I explained my whole trip to Canada. He then convinced my parents that I should go to New York to stay at the school. The doctor was Dr. Lewis, the same man who, after being unable to convince my parents to let me stay longer than my original five months at the school, volunteered to pay for my tuition for my first year of college. But even though my parents knew about Logan and why I wanted to stay, they still didn't know I was a mutant.

They still thought I was crazy.

"Yeah," I finally answered after a moment of thinking.

"I'm sorry about your cousin. Were the two of you close?"

"No," I said. "I had to force myself to cry at his funeral." I was quite for a moment as I shook my head. "I was never close to _anyone_, not until I met Logan. And I fought that harder than anything I had ever fought for. But I couldn't." I paused to wonder if I should say what was itching inside my mind for me to tell him. But I didn't have much time to debate it as I felt the words falling from my mouth before I could stop them. "I wanted to get close to you when I met you, but you scared me," I admitted. "It took me a long time to get over my fear of you."

"Why were you scared of _me_?"

I shrugged out of instinct, even though I knew he couldn't see it. "I don't know," I said. "I guess because you had lost Jean and I knew you were still hurting over that."

"But you never knew Jean, and you never knew me before she died. Why would that scare you?"

"I may not have known you, but I saw you when she died. I saw how it nearly killed you, too. It scared me to see someone who was capable of loving another person with that much intensity. I've felt your pain from that day and I know how it made me feel. The idea of getting close to a person who can love someone _that_ strongly was…scary," I said honestly.

"But it's not now?"

"No," I said. "Because now I understand it."

When I had thought those words, I had meant that I loved Logan that way. That I could feel his intense love for me. That I had experienced it between the two of us, however much we may fight and argue, and it was something that I finally understood. But as the words left my mouth, I realized that I wasn't talking about Logan. I was talking about Scott, because that's how I felt about him.

The conversation had taken a terribly serious turn that I didn't really want to take, and I felt my chest tightening under my anxiety. "So who was your favorite Ninja Turtle?" I asked, attempted to turn the conversation around.

I sensed him smile. "Leonardo." I laughed. "Why is that funny?"

"Just thinking that I should have known without asking."

"And why is that?"

"Leonardo is the fearless leader, the one who comes up with all of the plans and takes care of the rest of the team," I said. "Just like you."

"Well then, let me guess; your favorite is Raphael."

"And how did you come up with that?"

"He's passionate, feels like he's supposed to carry the whole world on his shoulders and he has a pretty bad temper," he said. "Not to mention that he's the only one who gets to swear."

"Well…you would be right," I said with a laugh. "He is my favorite."

"Your favorite Stooge is probably Moe, too, right?"

"No, it's actually Shemp, thank you."

"Shemp? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Because no one likes Shemp. He was weird."

"No, no one likes Larry."

"Hey, Larry was cool."

"You and my dad are the only two people I know who actually like him. Larry was a dork."

"Don't make fun of him; he _made_ the Stooges."

"No, Curly made the Stooges, Moe was a close second. Everyone else, with the exception of Shemp, sucked."

I looked over at him in the darkness. My eyes had adjusted to the lack of light and my senses had kicked back up. I almost didn't even need a flashlight at that point. I looked at him and saw that his brow was furrowed in concentration as he continued to look at the ground in front of him, watching where he was walking. I thought he was gorgeous and wanted with everything inside of me for him to be mine. I wanted him so much that I felt a physical pain inside my chest every time I thought of how I couldn't have him. It hurt to know that he wasn't mine to reach out and touch when I wanted. He still belonged to Jean and even though she was dead, he loved her with so much devotion that even death couldn't pry his heart from her hands. He was hers and nothing I could say would be able to change that. I was sure of it.

I let out a sigh and turned my eyes back to the waters in front of me, watching and being careful not to step on anything. I took a few steps before I was hit with a wave of intense emotional energy that nearly doubled me over. I let out a painful groan as I leaned back against the sewer wall in effort to keep myself standing. Scott stopped moving and I heard a new sound other than the ones that had been following us; someone was crying.

Scott shone his light on me, careful not to shine it in my eyes. "What's wrong?"

"It's Brandon," I said, balling my hands into fists as I fought all the new energy going through my mind and body at once.

"Where is he?"

"On down the tunnel. He's crying."

"Crying?"

"Yeah," I answered through gritted teeth.

"Can you keep going? Maybe I should go talk to him and you should stay here."

I shook my head. "No, I'm fine. But we have to go slow or we'll scare him. He's coming down from those drugs and he's crashing pretty hard."

"How hard?"

"Really hard. I can hear him crying from here, but what I'm feeling is…unbelievable. I mean, it's…" I shook my head, looking for the right words to describe it. But I couldn't. "I don't know. He's just so confused and scared."

"Are you sure you can keep going?"

I nodded. "Yeah, we just have to go slow."

"Okay," he said, taking my hand and helping me away from the wall. "I'll go ahead and you stay behind a few feet, in case he tries to run away."

I nodded again, even though he could no longer see me. "All right. Go on and I'll be right behind you." He began to walk away, but I reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. Something felt wrong. "Be careful."

I saw his face grow serious in the dark. "I will be."

I stood back and watched him walk away. I waited until he had rounded the corner in the tunnel and I could tell that he was about ten or fifteen feet away. It was hard for me to tell exactly because of all the water and the sounds echoing. Once I was sure he was far enough ahead of me, I started after him. The energy was still pulsing through me, and seemed only to get stronger the further I walked. Which made it difficult for me to keep moving and even more difficult to keep only a short distance between Scott. With every step I took, I could feel Brandon's emotions twisting and turning in my head. I could feel it creeping and slithering across my brain, like an itch I couldn't scratch. But I kept moving, because I had to. And the closer I felt myself getting to him, the more intense everything felt, to the point of nearly being overwhelming and almost breaking down and crying myself.

I walked slowly and carefully, as much to not scare Brandon as to keep myself standing. The ibuprofen I had taken earlier had completely worn off and my ankle was killing me. That coupled with the extremely weird and foreign emotions running through my body was enough to make anyone want to just lie down and give up. Only thing was; I was in a sewer, and I really wasn't all about wallowing in that stuff anymore than I already had.

I had been walking on my own for about five minutes when I heard Scott reach Brandon. My senses kept fading in and out, leaving me with a conversation that resembled a radio going in and out of frequencies, and giving me only broken words and sentences to try to piece together. From what I could gather, Brandon was still scared and confused, Scott was trying to console him, and I heard something about his parents.

My hearing kicked in just in time for me to hear him push Scott, causing him to fall down with a 'splash' into the drainage water once again. Then Brandon took off running.

Apparently he was still pissed, too.

I kept walking, only at a little quicker pace, and found Scott standing in the pipelines about two minutes ahead of me.

"He pushed me and ran off," he said.

"I heard," I said. I shone my flashlight at the tunnel ahead of me and saw that they split into two more tunnels. "Which one did he go down?"

"I don't know. I lost my flashlight when he pushed me. By the time I found it, he was already gone."

"Well, it's a good thing that they're waterproof, eh?"

"Yeah," he said as he stood in front of the tunnels, assessing them.

"Should we split up?" I asked.

"No, I don't want you wandering off by yourself. There's no telling what's down here."

I was about to protest, to point out the fact that I could take care of myself, when I felt my eyesight shift. Everything went blurry. And when it came back into focus, I was standing outside in an alleyway. I watched the empty space for a few seconds before I saw something begin seeping from the lid of a manhole in the middle of the alley.

It was silver liquid.

I watched as the liquid began to take shape and soon Brandon was standing in front of me.

Then he began to run.

I watched him as he left the alley and ran onto a crowded sidewalk. He seemed panicked and paranoid. And when he caught sight of his own reflection in a store window, he turned and ran the other way.

In the middle of traffic.

Where a delivery truck hit him.

My eyesight shifted and when it focused again, I was back in the sewer with Scott.

"We have to go," I said. "_Now_!"

I took off running down the tunnel on the left. I could feel traces of his emotions left inside in and knew that it had been the one he had gone down. Scott was right behind me.

"What's going on?" he asked.

I cringed as my weight was placed on my sprained ankle and let out a string of swearwords that would make Logan proud before answering. "Brandon's going to get hit by a truck. We have to hurry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I'm sure, I _saw_ it," I said, deciding I could deal with the damage I was doing to my ankle when I got home. If we didn't get there soon, he might die. So I pushed myself to run faster and harder. And Scott was right beside me, keeping up with my every step.

We turned a corner and I stopped abruptly at a small side tunnel. "What?" Scott asked.

"This way," I told him, going through the small opening. There was a small metal ladder and I could see small slivers of light coming through the finger holes of the manhole cover. "This is where he got out."

"Is it a road?"

"No, it's like a back alley, or something," I told him. He began climbing the ladder and when he got to the top, he pushed away the cover. "It's an alley, right?"

"Yeah," he said as he climbed out. I was right behind him and he offered me his hand to help me out. He quickly slid the cover back into place. "Where did he go?"

"This was," I said, leading him the way I had seen Brandon go.

I pushed my way through the crowds of people on the sidewalks and fought my way through. When the crowd broke for me to run through, looking like a psychotic sewer rat and smelling every bit just as bad, I caught a glimpse of Brandon ahead of me.

"I see him," I called to Scott, nearly panicked, and tried to run faster.

But my ankle wouldn't have any of it and rolled on my. Because of how fast I was going, I couldn't just stop myself. And so when my ankle rolled, so did I. I fell down, doing a front flip, scratching my forehead and back during the fall, then I came to a rolling stop on my side, and I felt the rough concrete sidewalk take a chunk out of it. I pulled myself up as fast as I could and was back running again before Scott could even reach me to help me. But my fall had caused a commotion and when Brandon looked back to see us, he turned around and ran.

I stood there, shaking, unable to speak, unable to breathe, and watched the scene unfold in front of me.

Brandon ran away from us.

He ran out into the road.

Into the middle of traffic.

Where a delivery truck hit him.

I had had visions of people and then _met_ those people. And I had had terrible visions of things happening to people. But I had never witnessed my visions coming to fruition first hand. And I was scared out of my mind.

Scott was calmer and knew exactly what to do. He ran to him, checking for broken bones and head wounds. But I watched it through dazed eyes and with a mind that felt frozen. I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything, and I just stood there, dirty and soaking wet, watching as a teenage boy lay in the middle of the road as people ran to him, trying to help him.

And all I could do was just stand there, staring and shaking in complete terror.

* * *

It didn't take very long for the ambulance to arrive. Brandon was alive, but in critical condition. Once Scott and I explained what had happened and how we fit into the situation to the police officers that had responded to the accident. One of them helped bandage me up and Scott and I were given clean clothes from some of the rescue teams and got to change before we were told we were allowed to leave. They had taken our statements and had our names and phone numbers if they needed anything from us, but right then, there was nothing more that we could do. While they were cleaning me up and patching my cuts and scrapes, we were informed that the Tawns had been called and were on their way to the emergency room. Then a lobster farmer offered us a ride and said he would take us to our car, but only if we rode in the back so that he wouldn't have to smell us. Once we got there, we started our long drive back home.

Neither one of us really spoke during our ride to Westchester. We both just kept to ourselves and our own thoughts, while the Rolling Stones played quietly in the background. We went through a drive-trough and grabbed some food, and he promised to buy me ice cream later. Then we spent another couple of hours in silence before we finally pulled into the garage.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked, looking at me.

"Yeah, I'm just a little sore."

"No, I meant are you okay about the accident today?"

"No," I admitted truthfully, but refusing to look at him.

"Why?"

"Because I saw it happen."

"So did I."

I finally gave in and looked at him. "Yeah, but I saw it _twice_. I saw it _before_ it happened. I should have been able to stop it and I couldn't. I was just standing there, helpless, while I watched my vision come true right in front of my eyes. And there was _nothing_ I could do."

"Just because you can see it doesn't mean you can _change_ it, Jayden. You try to do what you can. But if you beat yourself up every time something goes wrong -"

"A boy nearly _died_ because I wasn't fast enough. You don't screw up when it comes to people, not when they need you. You don't make mistakes like that."

"Yes, sometimes we do, it's a part of like, a part of being who we are. No one's perfect, it's unreasonable, and you can't hold yourself to unreasonable standards."

"There's a kid in a hospital that might die because of me, Scott. _Me_!" I snapped.

"No, he almost died because he was hit by a truck that someone else was driving, not _you_!" he yelled. "It wasn't _your_ fault!"

"But I _saw_ it!"

"You seeing it had nothing to do with it actually happening. It was going to happen whether you saw it or not. You can't blame yourself for something that had nothing to do with _you_. It wasn't your fault that you saw it and it wasn't your fault that it happened."

"It was my fault that I couldn't stop it."

"No it wasn't; you tried, that's all you can do. You have to let that be enough."

"Was that enough for you when Jean died? Trying."

His mouth turned down in a frown. "This isn't about her."

"Yeah it is. You're telling me to let _trying_ be enough, when all I can do is reply the scene over and over in my head, trying to figure out what I did wrong and what I should have done differently to save him. If you can tell me that you didn't do the exact same thing with her, then I'll shut up and won't say anymore about it. All you have to do is tell me."

"Jean was my _wife_, Jayden. Not some kid I had never met before. Yes, I wake up every single day expecting her to be in the bed with me, wanting to reach out and touch her, and she's not there. My heart wants to break every time I realize she's gone and I can't ever get her back. And there's absolutely not one day that goes by that I don't think about her and wonder if there wasn't something I could have done to save her and keep her with me. But you know what? No matter what, I keep getting up and I go on with my life because no matter what happened to her, it was her decision and at the end of the day, I couldn't do anything about it. If you can't deal with the fact that you're not going to be able to save everyone, that some people _will_ die, whether by accident as a casualty or on purpose, then maybe you should reevaluate your desire to be part of the X-Men. We're not super heroes and we don't go in and save the day. We're people who've been giving special abilities and chose to use them in order to _help_ people. It's not fool proof, nothing is, but we do our best and we _try_. If trying and failing doesn't work for you, then you're not trying hard enough because _that_ is all we can ever do. We try and hope for the best," he said. He shook his head. "Worrying about what you could have done to change the situation won't actually change it. Do you understand? All that's ever going to do is drive you crazy."

"I already _am_ crazy, Scott. Just remember that," I told him before grabbing my bag with my wet clothes and climbed out of the car.

It had been the first time Scott and I had nearly gotten into an argument and it wasn't something I was happy about. I didn't enjoy arguing, least of all with him. But I was home; I could take a shower, put on some of my own clean clothes, and go to bed. I just hoped that the next day would be better.

I walked through the house wondering how a day that had started out so promising could go so wrong, all in the course of only a few hours.

I reached the teacher's wing, wanting nothing more than to take a shower, when I met Logan in the hall. I saw the look on his face from seeing the state I was in. I let out a sigh and hoped he didn't want to start anything and piss me off, too. I couldn't handle fighting with him after everything that had already happened that day.

"What happened to you?" he asked, stopping me right before I could get to my room.

"The kid we went to go interview was high on coke and thought it would be a good idea to go wadding through the sewer. Scott and I had to go after him."

"So a bad day, huh?"

"The kid ended up getting hit by a truck and was sent to the emergency room. He's in critical condition, they don't know if he's going to live or not," I said. "So yeah; today's pretty much sucked."

"Sorry."

"If I didn't smell so bad, would you hug me?"

He gave me a small smile. "Yeah."

"When I get out of the shower, can I stay in your room? I don't feel like being alone tonight and I sort of need someone to coddle me for a while."

He smile turned into a smirk and he nodded his head. "I don't know about the coddle thing darlin', but you can stay with me tonight and I'll do the best I can."

"Okay, thank you."

He took my hand and pulled me closer to him. He was about to kiss me on top of my head when he paused. "Why don't you take that shower first, all right?"

I let out a small laugh. "All right," I said, letting out a sigh. "I love you, Logan."

"Love you, too, baby."

I was still sore, upset and pretty much exhausted, but hearing Logan say he loved me seemed to make everything better. And I don't know how to explain how a few simple words could somehow turn my night around, but they did. And I was able to get through my shower without crying.

Well…almost.

I was midway though shampooing my hair for the second time when I thought I heard a noise. I turned off the water and listened. When I heard it again, I wrapped myself in a robe and went to check my bedroom. But whatever had made the noise had stopped. I checked to make sure my bedroom door was still locked; it was. And so were my windows. I looked in my closet, under my bed and inside my wardrobe that was still a mess from earlier that day. Nothing seemed wrong. Until I noticed something was missing: Mr. Snugga Bear. I had left him on my bed before I had gone to Boston, but he wasn't there. That meant that someone _had_ been in my room, I just didn't know _when._

Everything else seemed to be in place and I hadn't heard the noise that had drawn me from the shower since coming out. I felt like I was losing it and just wanted to cry. And when I got some of my peppermint shampoo in my eyes, I did.

I was tired of being scared. I didn't want to do it anymore and yet I felt helpless and held captive to my own irrational emotions.

I took the rest of my shower with the curtain pulled half way and the door cracked.

And I cried.

* * *

"You smell like a candy cane," Logan said as I walked into his room carrying my pillows.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Not if you like candy canes."

"I used that body wash and shampoo and lotion stuff that Rogue gave me as a birthday present because I thought the mint might take out the sewage smell," I said, smelling my hair. "I can't really even smell it anymore." He gave me a sly smirk. "What?"

"So you actually kept Marie's present? I figured you would've thrown it away."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm not _that_ rude, thank you," I said, throwing my pillows on his bed. "Just because I don't like her doesn't mean I can't like the stuff she bought me."

The smirk fell from my face and he crossed his arms over his chest. "Why don't you like her?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I just don't."

"You don't know _why_ you don't like her?"

"No. Do you know why you don't like Scott?"

"Yeah, 'cause he's a Boy Scout pansy who's too afraid to get his hands dirty when he needs to. He's Chuck's little lap dog and if he ain't got direct orders to do something he won't do it," he said. "Oh, and he watches my daughter just a little too closely and wants to spend too much time with you."

I sat down on the end of his bed. "Okay, so you have a reason to not like him. Just because I don't have a good reason doesn't change how I feel," I said. "And I'm sorry I don't like your girlfriend, but I can't help it."

"Are you sorry? Or are you just sorry that I _know_ you don't like her."

"Both," I said. "I used to have control over how I felt, or at least how people saw what I felt. Even if I was the most miserable person in the world, I could paste on a smile and fake a laugh, and everyone thought I was the happiest person they had ever met. I can't freakin' control anything now, least of all my emotions."

"What happened?"

I looked up at him, proving my point by showing my pain and exhaustion. "You," I said with a weak smile. "You came through and made me stop pretending. Now I don't know how anymore."

"Maybe it's 'cause you're not meant to."

"Or maybe I just suck at life."

"Never had that problem; I always sucked at death."

I gave him the same small, weak smile. "I'm actually getting pretty good at almost dying."

"So when it comes time for the real thing, you should have enough practice."

"I want to die in a really cool way."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "Like how?"

I ran my fingers through my damp hair. "I don't know. Just as long as it doesn't involve water."

"I'd prefer it if you _didn't_ die, in a cool way or not."

"So would I," I said, staring down at my feet.

My left foot was bruised and swollen worse than it had been all week. Right after my shower, I had gone down to the infirmary and had Hank re-wrap my foot and bandage up my cuts that I had received earlier that day. My head, back and arms had some minor cuts and bruises littered across them, but my right side looked a bit like someone had taken a cheese grater to it. He had re-bandaged it and wrapped it an ace-bandage, then he gave me a painkiller to help me get through the night. But it was making me tired and groggy.

"You look like you're gonna fall over," Logan said.

I looked up at him, my eyelids heavy. "I am."

"Then go to sleep."

"You don't mind me crowding you bed?"

He shook his head. "No, once you go to sleep, you'll be out of it. I'll just roll you over and take the rest of the bed," he joked with a wink.

I gave a small laugh. "Just don't roll me on my right side; it's still a little sore."

"Deal," he said, then nodded his head towards the bed. "Now go to sleep before you fall over in the floor. You're gettin' too heavy for me to pick up."

"I thought I was too skinny a few days ago. Now I'm too heavy?" moved from the bottom of the bed to the head of it and lay down. My body was sore and appreciated the soft bed to rest on. I let out a relieved sigh and closed my eyes. "You need you make up your mind, dude."

A few moments later I felt his lips on my forehead as he gave me a kiss and pulled the covers up around me. "Get some sleep, baby. You'll feel better in the mornin'."

"Are you going to stay in here with me? I'm scared to be by myself tonight," I mumbled, slipping away to sleep.

"Don't be scared," he murmured, his lips still pressed against my forehead. "Just go to sleep and I'll be right here." He gave me another kiss. "Goodnight."

"Night Logan, I love you."

"Right back at'cha, kid."

It had been a long, hard day. So much had happened and I had gone through so many emotions that my body just gave up. My mind didn't fight the sleep like it had so many times since my horrible vision of being kidnapped, and I was glad. And so with Logan right beside me, I began to rock myself softly and hummed the music of 'I'll Be Seeing You' until I fell asleep. But before I drifted off to sleep with him holding me, I had the thought that I finally realized why so many girls were daddy's girls. Because it was easy to give yourself over to a man you knew would always be there to take care of you and keep you safe. No matter how much we fought, he was still my hero. And when Logan held me, I felt invincible.


	8. Without You

Disclaimers: I'm sorry, but if I owned the rights to Marvel or Fox, I don't think I would be writing fanficiton. I'd be off living the good life and spending money like crazy. Actually...I'd probably still be writing fanfiction, it's addictive. I hope ya'll like the next chapter. Reviews would be much appreciated and make me very happy. Enjoy!

* * *

"You sure you don't want me to go with you?" Logan asked for the third time that day. "I'm sure Summers can find somewhere to land the Blackbird and fly me out there."

It was the third week in October and I was getting ready to go back to California for my friend Karen's wedding. I was dreading the whole thing and was amused by the idea of Logan going with me to keep my entertained. But I was doing a favor for a friend, not going for entertainment, and thought it would be less controversial if Logan just stayed at home. No one but my parents knew who he was and it would be rude if I brought in a strange man that had to be explained and took away _any_ of the limelight from Karen. It was supposed to be her day, not mine. And I really didn't want the type of attention he would bring from the people back in California.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks for the offer, though."

"I don't like you goin' back there by yourself."

"I lived there for like, fourteen years, I think I can handle a few days. I'm not even going to be gone for a week," I said. "I'll be back Saturday night. That's only like, five days. Can you deal with that?"

"I don't know; I might actually get some peace a quiet for a few days," he said with a wink.

"Shut up," I said with a smile, lightly punching his arm. Then I let out a sigh and hugged him, wrapping my arms back around his shoulders. "Seriously though, are you going to miss me?" I asked, resting my head against his chest.

He wrapped an arm around my waist and cradled my head with his free hand. "Yeah," he answered, placing a kiss on my temple.

"I'm going to miss you too, furry-face."

"You don't have to go, you know? You can stay here."

I nodded. "I know, but I need to go. I told everyone I'd be there. My mother's already bought my dress and everything. I can't back out now."

"Haven't I taught you anything, kid? You ain't got to be nice all the time."

I laughed. "This has nothing to do with being nice; this has to do with being an adult and being responsible."

"Who said you have to be responsible just 'cause you're an adult? Look at me; I'm old as dirt."

"You're right."

"So are you gonna stay here?"

I looked up at him. "Actually, I was agreeing with the fact that you're old as dirt," I said with a smile. I pulled back and sat down on my bed with a 'flop'. "Are you going to drive me to the airport?"

"You want me to?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Just thought you might want Scooter to."

I ran my fingers through the ends of my hair that I had pulled into a ponytail. "Yeah, Scott and I aren't getting along the best right now."

"Why?"

"Do you remember last month when I went to Boston with him?" He nodded. "Well, when we got back, we had a bit of an argument."

He cocked his eyebrow at me and crossed his arms over his chest. "What kind of an argument?"

"He basically told me the same thing you've been trying to tell me."

"Which is what?"

"That I can't always be perfect when it comes to missions or saving people or whatever."

"You can't."

"Yeah, well…whatever. He told me I should 'reevaluate my desire' to be part of the team." I shrugged. "I guess he was right, and I have been, but…we just haven't been talking that much lately."

"Can't say I'm upset."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Well I'm not."

"Yeah, I figured that."

"I'm sorry, though."

"For what?"

"I know you and Scooter are…"

"Friends," I said. "We're just friends."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before."

"That's because you're the one usually saying it."

"Hey, this isn't about me," he said, holding out his hand. "I know you and Scott are 'friends', and I'm sorry the two of you aren't gettin' along right now. All right?"

"Yeah, thanks."

"Good. Let's go get something to eat before I have to take you to the airport."

I smiled. "Okay."

I slipped on my shoes, put on my old army jacket and Logan and grabbed the two bags I was taking with me. Then I went downstairs to tell everyone bye. As I was talking to Hank, he gave me a bag. When I opened it I saw that it was Mr. Snugga Bear. He had taken him out of my room the month before and had him repaired for me. He gave him to me so that I would have company on my plane ride. I gave him and hug and a kiss, thanking him for it, and then we left. My plane wasn't supposed to leave for another couple of hours, so Logan drove us to a small, hole in the wall pizza place and we sat out on the screened in porch area they had off the back so that he could smoke. We watched the rain fall as we are and enjoyed each other's company before I had to leave.

"You know, last year at this time it was raining, too," I said. "Of course we were a few miles from New York."

"Just a few," he said, taking a draw of his cigar.

"I can't believe that was a _year_ ago."

"Does it seem longer or shorter?"

"Longer," I said, leaning back in my chair. I closed my eyes and listened to the rain for a moment. "It seems like forever ago."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

I smiled at him, my eyes still closed. "I don't know," I said. "Good I guess." I cracked open an eye and looked at him. "Does it seem like it's been a year to _you_?"

I saw him shake his head. "No."

"Longer or shorter."

"A whole lot longer."

"Now is _that_ good or bad?"

He laughed at me throwing his questions back at him. "I like it, so I say that's pretty good."

I sat back up in my chair and proper my chin up in my hands as I stared at him. "Did you ever think you would be a father?"

He took a sip of his beer as he flicked the ashes from the end of his cigar. "I thought one day I might be, I guess. Didn't really think too much about it."

I smiled at him. "You are such a liar."

He cocked an eyebrow at me. "What're you talkin' about?"

"You want Marie to have about six of your babies and have them all running around the mansion, annoying the piss out of their 'Uncle' Scott."

"You don't know what you're talkin' about, darlin'."

I leaned in closer to him and dropped my voice. "You forget that I've been inside that metal skull of yours a few times, furry-face. So I _do_ know what I'm talking about," I said with a victorious grin.

He just shook his head and took another sip of beer. Our waitress came out and brought us another pizza and took away the pan from the one we had just devoured minutes before. I was working on my second slice of the new one when he gave me the eyebrow.

"What? Do I have food on my face or something?"

"No, just thinkin'."

"That's dangerous," I said. "What about?"

"Did you ever think you're father would turn out to be someone like me?"

"What? Hairy and cranky?" I joked.

"No, crazy and out of his mind."

"Not really, no. I never much thought about you, I thought more about my mother."

"A lotta things have changed over the past year, eh?"

"Oh yeah."

I had spent fourteen years thinking about my mother, wanting to be with her, and once I met her, she had shattered every dream and thought I had had about her. And Logan, the man who I had never thought of, had become my absolute hero. Things had definitely changed.

"Who'd you think you're father would be?"

I shrugged. "Probably a druggie who ended up killing himself, or something. I didn't really have a lot to go by, though…actually; I didn't have _anything_ to go by…"

"Are you disappointed?"

I sat back in my seat, studying him for a moment before I answered. "I wanted to stay with you and for you to love me before I ever knew who you were. I loved you so much that when I left, I felt my heart completely break. I thought I would never be able to see you again and that hurt more than any pain I had ever felt in my life," I said. "I thought you were a jerk at times, yeah, but how I felt when I was with you…" I shook my head. "Just feeling a connection with someone I had never known before was incredibly overwhelming for me, and so amazing." I paused. "No, I wasn't disappointed."

"Good."

"Were you disappointed with me?"

He cracked a smirk. "You were perfect the moment I saw you right after you were born. You came out silent and big eyed."

"I didn't cry like most babies do."

"No, you just looked up at me and blinked, and you were a tiny thing, too. But man, you were beautiful."

"Even thought you don't think that most babies are pretty when they first come out."

"Yeah. It takes 'em a while to get everything developed, or something, or maybe they're just ugly, I don't know. But you were beautiful. I just couldn't stop starin' at you."

"And my mother told you that I needed to cry to make sure that my lungs were clear, but you didn't know what to do."

"Yeah, but as soon as she said that, you started cryin'."

"Like I knew exactly what she was talking about."

"Yeah. You did it just long enough to prove you were fine."

"And then I stopped again."

He stared at me hard for a minute. "Have I told you that story before?"

I smiled at him. "On my nineteenth birthday, in a different time and a different place."

He seemed to think for a moment as he sat quietly smoking his cigar. "In your vision?" I nodded. "Did it make things any better?"

"You made me cry."

"So apparently not."

I laughed. "No, you did. I was happy, that's why I was crying."

"Well, just so you know, I ain't ever been disappointed in you, darlin'. I couldn't have picked you better myself."

"Have you always remembered me? Or were there times when you didn't think about me?"

"I thought about you every day."

"Logan, if you ever lost your memory again, do you think you would forget me? Or do you think that somehow you could remember me, through everything?"

"I can't ever imagine not bein' able to remember you, baby. No matter what."

I smiled at him.

My hero.

My father.

* * *

The moment I stepped off the plane, the life I lived for fourteen years came rushing back to me. The airport itself wasn't familiar, it was only my second time there, but it was the weather, the smell, the people around me and how they spoke and dressed. It was life how I knew it.

And I hated it.

I walked off the airplane, following the line of people in front of me and I silently thanked the Professor for upgrading the ticket my parents had bought me to first class. I felt a small tickle run across my brain and I knew he was trying to contact me back, and I smiled.

I wasn't completely a lone all the way out there.

I continued following the line of people in front of me until it was time for everyone to spread out and find the people waiting for them, or to get their luggage. I looked over the crowd, trying to find one of my parents. I skimmed over the signs the other people were holding and laughed quietly at the different things they said. Until I came across one that said, 'Welcome Home, Pumpkin'. When I looked at the holder, I realized it was my dad.

I walked over to him and smiled. "Hey daddy."

"Hey sweetie, how are you?"

"I'm good, how are you?"

"I'm fine," he said, almost dismissing the question. "Are you going to give me a hug or what?"

"Yeah," I said and wrapped my arms around his neck. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Better?"

"Much."

"Where's mom?"

"She's making dinner. Are you hungry?"

"I'm starving."

"She's making meatloaf."

I groaned as I pulled away. "So she's _really_ cooking?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Great," I said dry and sarcastically. My mother rarely cooked and when she did, it was usually from the frozen food section. When she _did_ decide to cook on her own, it was always meatloaf. And always inedible. "Is there anyway we can trick her into making _anything_ else?"

He wrapped his arm around me and began leading me towards the baggage claim. "I'm sorry honey, but unless the meatloaf itself bursts into flames, there's not way to talk her out of it." I let out another groan. "But the good news is we're having banana splits for dessert."

"I guess that'll do."

"That's my girl," he said with a wink, giving me a kiss on top of my head.

But I wasn't his girl. I was Logan's.

"Terry, Jayden's here," my dad called as we walked through the front door.

My mother emerged from the kitchen a few moments later, her hands held up and away from her. "Come here and give me a hug; my hands are covered in meatloaf," she said.

I crossed the hall and gave her a hug, careful not to get any meat on me. "Hey mom."

"Hey sweetie," she said, pulling away, barely giving me time to hug her. "Paul, take her bags to her room. Jayden come help me with the rest of dinner."

"Yes ma'am," I said, following her into the kitchen. Once we reached it, I saw the phone lying on one of the counters and had a thought to call the mansion. "Can I use the phone?"

"Who do you need to call?"

"I just wanted to call home and tell them I got here okay."

"Call _home_? You _are_ home; that's a school."

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Sorry."

She looked at me, studying me for a few moments before she finally let out a sigh. "Yes, you may use the phone very quickly to tell them that you arrived here safely. But I want you to start making the mashed potatoes when you get done."

"Yes ma'am, thank you." I picked up the phone and dialed the mansion's number. I figured it was too late for the Professor to be in his office and I would have better luck with the main line number. The phone rang four times before a familiar voice answered. "Hey Hank!"

"Jayden, my little lotus blossom, how are you?"

"I'm good. I just wanted to call and tell you guys that I got here okay."

"Good. How is everything out there with your family? Are you getting along well?"

"I just got here, so we'll have to see," I said. I heard him laugh. "How's everything there?"

"We're doing quite fine, thank you. Don't worry about us, sweetheart."

"Is everyone still there?"

"Yes, there haven't been any missions in the few hours you've been gone. Why? Are you afraid that you're missing all the action?" he teased, letting out a hearty laugh. I couldn't help myself from smiling. I loved to hear him laugh.

"No, I was just wondering if Logan was there?"

"As far as I know, yes. I'm in the lab, though, of course."

"Of course," I repeated with a smile.

"Yes, and I'm afraid he's not down here with me. But I'll see if Charles can't contact him and have him use one of the upstairs lines."

"Okay, thank you." There was a couple of minutes of silence on the other end of the line before I heard a gruff voice do it's best to sound soft. "Hey Logan."

"Hey darlin'."

"I'll let the two of you talk. Have a good evening, Jayden," Hank said from his line.

"You too, Hank. Love you, goodnight."

"I love you, too, sweetheart. Goodnight." He hung up.

"So," Logan said, and I could already tell the follow up comment was going to be sarcastic. "How's mommy and daddy?" I was right.

"I don't know. How _are_ you and Marie doing?" I threw back just as sarcastically.

That got a chuckle. "Nice one, kid," he said. "How you doin' out there, though?"

"I'm all right. We're about to eat dinner, so I can't talk long. I'm on mashed potato duty."

"Do they know you can't cook?"

"Shut up, you jerk. I can to cook," I said. "Besides, they're instant."

He laughed again. "They're not even real potatoes, that doesn't count."

"Instant potatoes are totally real; they're just freeze dried, or whatever. But they so count."

"Whatever you say, darlin'."

"At least it's better than three minute noodles with Slim Jims in it."

"Yeah, but that was better than burnt chili."

He was referring to the time back in Canada when I had attempted to cook chili for the first time. It ended up catching fire and burning my hand. Then Logan threw the chili, pot and all, out the window into the alley. Then we had the three minute noodles with the Slim Jims. As bad as it was, it was a memory I wouldn't trade for anything.

"Yeah, well, that was a year ago; I've learned how to cook since then and you know that," I said. "As a matter of a fact, wasn't it just last week when I made us both grill cheese sandwiches without burning them? You even told me they were really good."

"It was luck."

"No it wasn't."

"I guess you'll just have to cook something else to prove it," he said. "How about I let you make my lunch all of next week?"

I laughed. "Nice try, but I don't think so." We were both quiet for a moment. "I hate talking to you on the phone."

"Me too."

"It doesn't feel right."

"It's 'cause you're meant to be here with me, where I can see you while you're talkin'."

"I think that's what it is."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah…yeah, I think so. I just miss you."

"I'd think you'd be tired of me by now."

"So would I," I joked.

"I can still get Summers to bring me out there if you want him to?"

I smiled. "No, I'll be okay. But thank you."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll see you at the end of the week. Besides, I thought you were looking forward to getting some 'peace and quiet'? What happened to that?"

"Peace and quiet's boring."

I laughed. "So I'm just your source of entertainment? You know, they invented this really cool thing after World War Two called _television_."

"They invented those _before_ World War Two, actually. They just stopped makin' 'em 'cause they were usin' the metal during the war."

"Thank you for that brief lesson in history, I'll be sure to commit that to memory," I said sarcastically with a bit of a laugh. "Well, I have to go make mashed potatoes. Feel free to make fun of them all you want, but I make a mean bowl of instant potatoes."

"If you have any problems tonight, if you have any nightmares, I want you to call me, all right?"

"Logan, I'm not -"

"Hey, do as you're told girl, or I'll make Summers bring me out there anyway."

"You both wouldn't survive the trip. One of you would kill the other."

"I can't die, so I guess it would have to be him. You want me to kill Scooter?"

I let out a sigh. "No, I don't."

"Then don't make me come out there."

"Okay."

"That means if you have a nightmare, you call me, you hear?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah what?"

"Yes, sir, I'll call you, sir, and I'll report back tomorrow at o-eight-hundred, sir. Does that sound like a deal to you, sir?" I said jokingly.

"Okay, now you're just bein' sarcastic."

"Oh, and I wonder where I got _that_ from?"

"Yeah, just blame it all on me."

"I only blame you because it's your fault. I was a well behaved, well mannered good girl until I met you. You corrupted me."

I heard him laugh loudly on the other end and I smiled. "That's a good one, kid."

"Shut up," I said, laughing. Then a silence settled between us.

"Don't let 'em hurt you, all right?"

I felt my stomach twist and my eyes sting as I held back tears. He wanted so much just to protect me and he couldn't. I was too far away for him to come running and save me if someone tried to hurt me. And that thought made me happy and sad all at once. Happy because he was the first people in my life to want to protect _me_, and sad because if I _did_ get hurt, he would blame himself.

"I won't, I promise."

"Good," he said. "I love you, baby."

"I love you, too." I was quiet for a moment. "I don't want to hang up."

"I don't either."

"But I have to."

"Okay."

"I love you," I said again. "Goodnight."

"Night," he said. Then I hung up. If I had let him keep talking, I would have broken down and cried for Scott to bring my daddy to me as fast as he could get that jet to fly. But I needed to be there on my own; I needed to do it by myself. I didn't _want_ to, but I needed to.

I sat the phone down and let out a deep breath to keep myself from crying.

"So," my mother started, "why didn't _he_ come with you?"

"Because _he_," I said in the same tone as she had, "has a job. He's a teacher, he can't just take days off, there's no one to replace him."

"Did he even offer?"

"Only six times today and countless times this month." She made a noise. "What?" I asked.

"That's just a little surprising to me. Even though it's the _polite_ thing to do, it just doesn't seem like him. Because from I've seen of him, he's slightly barbaric."

"That 'barbaric' man is my father, my best friend and the best thing that's ever happened to me. If you want me to stay here, if you want me to ever _talk_ to you again, you won't say anything bad about him while I'm in this house. You're entitled to your own opinion, but unless sharing it is somehow supposed to _help_ me, don't express it while I'm around."

I shut my moth, surprised that I had just said that to my mother. I had never talked to her that way. She looked at me, looking about as shocked as I felt. And suddenly I felt very empowered.

"You don't know him, but _I_ do," I said. "He's a smart man, you know? He's actually brilliant. And he has his moments where he can be a jerk, yeah, but he's incredibly thoughtful of me. He takes care of me, he protects me, and he actually thinks about _me_. He may seem more like an escaped crazed convict, but he's not. But just because he doesn't look or act like Ward Cleaver doesn't mean he's a complete Neanderthal. He's not the typical father, but I'm not the typical daughter, either. And we're okay with that, that's how we like it. So if you could just keep your snarky comments about him to yourself, I'd appreciate that."

"Okay," she said. "Would you make the mashed potatoes now, please? We'll be eating dinner in thirty minutes."

I stared at her for a moment, wondering if everything I had said had truly gotten to her. But I didn't much care. I only had to be there for a few more days, and then I could go home. I could be with my family.

"Yes ma'am," I said.

Dinner was polite and had the same rehearsed feeling it always had. And the food was terrible, as expected. Dessert was a little better, but not much, and only because the banana splits didn't taste like burnt cat food, like the meat loaf had. Then I went to bed. I was tired and my parents were acting weirder than ever, so I just wanted to get away and go to sleep.

When I got into my room, I was hit with a wave of emotions. I had lived in that room for fourteen years of my life and very little had changed in that time. My bed had gotten bigger as I grew, but it had remained in the same spot as always. To the right of my bed sat a nightstand, and to the left, a vanity. I had a few bookshelves, a dresser and some other furniture, all of which was bare. My parents had boxed up what belongings I hadn't taken with me at the beginning of the year when I left, and sent them to the mansion.

Although it all felt familiar, it no longer felt like mine. Because I wasn't the same person anymore; I was different. I had changed and grown. I had become someone else. But the room had stayed the same.

I changed into pajamas and meditated for fifteen minutes before crawling into bed. As I was drifting off to sleep, I saw an image of Logan. He gave me one of his crooked half smirks-half smiles that made his top lip curl. I wanted to say something to him, but he just shook his head, indicating for me not to speak. As I got closer to sleep, I heard myself humming somewhere far off. Then I felt him pull me to him and hold me. I fell asleep knowing that no matter how far apart we may have been, I was never alone. Just because I couldn't see him didn't mean Logan wasn't there.

* * *

The time went by quickly as I spent four days in dress fittings, wedding rehearsals, and going to two different dinners. Not to mention I had gone back to trying to navigate my way though spending time with my parents, who seemed to have more tension between then that I had ever noticed before. And by Thursday night, I was ready to just get it all over with and go home. All I had to do was make it through two more nights. I had gone all week without a single nightmare, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way, I just didn't know when it would happen.

Until that night.

I saw Logan, naked, and chained to the floor. His wrists and ankles had cuffs wrapped around them with such little slack that he didn't have enough room to stand or sit. He was forced to stay in a constant squat and from the pain I felt from him, he had been in that position for hours, possibly days. Even his healing factor couldn't make up for the constant burn in his muscles.

Adding to the pain was another type of torture. A slow and steady drip of water was dropping on his head, where his hair had been shaven, slowly driving him mad. Whether the dripping water was deliberate or not, I didn't know. But it was aiding in his torture just the same.

I saw a man emerge from the shadows carrying something in his hand. He was coming from behind Logan, and he couldn't see him, but he knew he was there. The object in his hand was about a foot long, leather covered pole with nine leather straps connected to it. At the ends of the straps were metal tacks with sharp, jagged ends. The man stood behind him, holding it tightly in his hands, his grip causing his knuckles to go white. There was anger in his eyes that filled me with fear and sickness and confusion. I didn't understand why he was so mad at him; I just knew that he was.

He took the leather pole, brought it back and up by his head, then he brought it down in one swift motion. The leather straps whipped against Logan's bare back. The metal tacks stuck into his skin, but he had whipped him so hard, the momentum carried through and came back, ripping the skin from his back as the straps returned.

It was called a cat o'nine tails. The fact that it hasn't been used as centuries as a torturing device didn't seem to faze the angry man as he continued to whip and beat Logan as he ripped the flesh from his back and ribs. Blood splashed his face, flecks of gore and skin splattering his clothes.

Logan growled and roared, but never spoke and actual word. He never pleaded, because that's what they wanted him to do. They wanted him to break. But no matter what I saw them do to him, he never gave them the satisfaction of seeing him broken.

The man kept whipping and beating him until the skin on his back had all been ripped away and his ribs were exposed.

Then he stopped.

As if on cue, two more men emerged from the shadows. They un-cuffed Logan's wrists and I watched him fall face forward onto the blood soaked concrete floor with a breath of relief. Relief that was short lived.

I still felt the pain from his back. His ribs.

I felt the pain as his exposed ribs made contact with the floor, causing a few of them to crack.

I felt the pain.

I felt the fear.

I felt the rage.

I watched the men re-shackle Logan's hands together and then bind his ankles as the skin on his back slowly began to reform. But not fast enough. The two men wrapped wire around both of his biceps, connecting it to a ring and began pulling him across the room.

The room was poorly lit and hard for me to see in, but I knew where they were going. They dragged him to a spot in the room where there was a small box, about four by four inches, and the top was covered in broken glass and cut off barbs from barbwire. They took him to the box, made him stand on it, and hooked his handcuffs to a hook that hung from the roof. On a hook just above that one, they attached the ring that was connected to the sharp wire around his arms.

"You have two choices, Weapon X," the man who had been responsible for whipping him said. "You can either ignore the muscle failure in your legs and the pain in your feet, like you're doing now, or you can take all the weight off your legs and hold yourself up by your arms. However, if you choose to do that, if your knees even buckle to lower you more than an _inch_, the wire wrapped around your arms will cut through your skin and muscle. So what is it, Weapon X?"

Logan didn't say a word; he just bared his teeth and growled. I felt the pain in his legs and I knew how badly they were hurting him, but he kept standing, not even flinching as the shattered glass and metal barbs dug their way into the soft, sensitive flesh on his feet. He stood there and took it, glaring at the three men with pure hatred and a look of bloodlust shining in his eyes.

The rage kept him alive. It kept him going. But looking forward to killing those men is what kept him from breaking. He was going to pay them back, and they would think what they had done to him was child's play compared to what he had in mind for them. And that was what made him give the men a crazed smile, showing his blood soaked teeth.

He was going to kill them one day, and he was going to enjoy every second of it.

"Very well," the man said.

He nodded at the two men who had strung Logan up and they disappeared back into the darkness. When they came back, they were carrying a bucket. They sat the bucket down in front of the man who was still covered in blood, and he reached his hand into it. He pulled out a handful of small, white grains. Then he pressed it to Logan's back and spread it across his wounds that had yet to heal completely. The salt burned, elevating his pain, and Logan let out another roar. The sound bellowed in his chest, as if it were being ripped from his very insides. The jolt of pain caused him to lose his balance and his left foot slipped from the box. For one short moment there was that relief in his legs again. But then the metal wire sliced through his skin of his arms, quick and painfully. He let out another scream as his eyes began to water from all the pain hitting him at once. I saw the horror, the fear, and the complete and utter hatred shinning in his eyes.

And I screamed.

I woke, sweating and shaking, with a scream still caught in my throat. As I sat up, it was quickly replaced by bile and vomit. I started choking on it and ran to the bathroom. The images from my vision made me so sick, I couldn't hold it back.

I didn't worry about my parents. They never came to me after I had a nightmare. They thought it made it worse, or something. So I was surprised when I heard someone come into the bathroom with me and turn on the sick. Then I felt a cold rag around my neck. As my sickness stopped, I saw my dad standing beside me.

"Are you okay pumpkin?"

"Yeah," I said. "Just a bad dream."

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up and back to bed."

My senses were all heightened and I could taste the vomit in my mouth stronger than usual. So I rinsed my mouth out with some mouth wash before going back to my room. He followed me and tucked me into bed before sitting on the side of it.

"What you see, those aren't just nightmares, are they? They never have been." I nodded. "You actually _see _things, don't you?"

"Yes," I said quietly.

"I'm sorry we never listened to you. I know you had to be scared."

"I thought you and mom would hate me."

He pushed the hair out of my face. "There's nothing you could ever do or tell me that would make me hate you. You're my daughter and I love you more than anything in the world, sweet pea. I know that I haven't always showed that enough, but it's the truth. I don't want you to ever be scared to tell me anything. I know that since you met your biological father, you want to be with him, and I understand that completely, but you're always going to be my little girl to me. You're the best thing that's ever happened in my life and I'm so grateful that we found each other. _Nothing_ you could do or say will ever make me love you any less, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay," I said. "I love you, daddy."

He bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead. "I love you too, pumpkin, I hope you always know that," he said. "And don't be scared. You can do _anything_ you want. You're such a strong person, Jayden. You're beautiful and smart and talented. But don't ever let fear hold you back, because if you don't, you can be amazing. I know that and I look forward to seeing what you'll do and who you'll become. I have so much faith in you."

My 'coming out' talk to my father had gone much better than I ever imagined it would. Although we had always been close, or at least I pretended we were, something was different. He seemed far more open to me than ever before. And for the first time in our relationship together, I was letting him in.

"How can you have faith in me? What if I screw up?"

He smiled and patted my cheek. "That's the thing about life, sweetheart; we all screw up eventually. But I have faith that you can make it through your mistakes and learn from them. That's something a lot of people can't do. Learn from your mistakes and learn from other people's, but don't be afraid to make your own. You have a greatness inside of you that most people only wished they could have. Don't let that go to waste."

"I won't."

"Good." He nodded his head before giving me another kiss on the forehead. "Sleep tight, my little angel. I love you."

"I love you, too, daddy."

My father left and I stayed awake for a while longer, thinking. He had always been such a great father, pretty much the perfect one, and I had never given him the credit he deserved. He had not only chosen me as his daughter, but he had treated me like I was his own. He had taken care of me, he had helped me grow up, and although he and my mother hadn't always agreed on me or how to raise me, while she was gone, he let me be a kid. I had always been a very guarded person, even as a child. But I realized then that if I could have ever truly allowed myself to get close to someone when I was younger, it would have been him. He was the one man in my life, the one _person_, who had always been there for me. He was the man to whom I compared all me before Logan. And even after Logan, there were still things about my father that I was always going to look for in other men. And as I went back to sleep, I regretted never having let my father know me and let myself get close to him.

He was a good man.

My example.

My childhood.

My father.

* * *

I woke early the next morning and meditated for thirty minutes before going downstairs. My parents had the day off and I decided to make breakfast for us all, but I was going to need some help. I called Hank and had him talk me through, step by step, how to make his crepes with cream cheese filling rolled in cinnamon and sugar. I knew they wouldn't taste the same as his, he was a far better cook that me, but I couldn't stomach the idea of eat another frozen waffle. Hank had spoiled me.

When my parents woke up, I was in my pajama shorts, a wife beater, and one of Logan's old flannel, plaid shirts cooking and on the phone with Hank.

"Jayden, what are you doing?" my mother asked when she and my father walked into the kitchen.

"I'm making breakfast," I said as I scrambled eggs.

"I…I didn't know you knew how."

"Well, I learned," I said, then turning my attention back to my conversation with Hank. "If you could just go over my math home work and check what I got wrong, I'd really appreciate it. I know you're busy, but it's driving me freakin' crazy and I don't know if I'm getting it or not."

"It's not a problem; I'll look over it this afternoon and check it for you."

"Thanks," I said. "I'm going to go finish my eggs and I think I can probably handle the toast on my own."

He laughed. "Are you sure?" he joked.

"If I set the smoke alarm off, I might give you a call."

"All right. Have fun today."

"Okay. Thank you Hank for assisting in my cooking."

He laughed. "You're very welcome. I'll be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow evening, Miss Rivers."

I smiled. "I'll be looking forward to see you as well, Mr. McCoy."

I was about to tell Hank goodbye as I was done scrambling my eggs and putting them onto a plate when I heard a voice in the background. "Is that Jayden?" It was Logan.

"Yes," Hank answered him. "Would you like to speak to her?"

"Yeah," I heard him say in the background.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Jayden. Goodbye."

"Bye Hank."

I heard the phone being shuffled around as it was being handed over. I heard Logan's breath huff and cringed, knowing exactly what he wanted to talk to me about. "So," he said finally, his voice intimidating and rigid. "What happened last night?"

"Uh, hang on."

"No, not 'hang on', we're gonna talk about this right now."

"I'm in the kitchen with my parents."

"So go somewhere else where we can talk."

I rolled my eyes. "Hold on," I said to him. "Excuse me, I'm going to go to the living room and talk for a few minutes. It made crepes, bacon and eggs, but the crepes are better with ice cream on top. You can eat without me and I'll join you once I'm done," I said to my parents.

"Your father and I need to speak to you, so could you hurry please?"

"No you can't hurry," Logan said, answering my mother's question. It didn't seem to faze him that she couldn't hear him.

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Logan, shut up. Mom, I'll be done in a little bit." I left the kitchen and went into the living room where my parents couldn't hear my conversation. "Okay, what do you want to talk about?" I asked as I sat down on the couch, even though I already _knew_ what he wanted to talk about.

He swore. "What happened last night?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I woke up pukin' my guys out and every time I closed my eyes, I saw you doin' the same thing."

"Uh, okay…so?"

"So? So you were supposed to _call_ me if you had a nightmare. The phone didn't ring last night, darlin'."

"That's because I went back to sleep."

"Without callin'?"

"Logan, my dad came and took care of me. By the time he left, I was already going back to sleep."

"He took care of you? Really?" he said dry and skeptically.

"Yes, _really_," I said. "We…we talked."

"About what?"

"About me and…what I am."

"You told him you were a mutant?"

"Kind of. He sort of guessed it, though, because he asked me."

He swore again. "What are they doin' to you out there, kid?"

"_Nothing_. He's my father, Logan; I'm allowed to talk to him. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

"I'm not; I just wanna know why you didn't call?"

"Because there was no point in it. I was fine. I went back to sleep and I didn't have another nightmare."

"What'd you see last night?"

I paused and took a breath. "You."

"Doin' what?" I didn't say anything. "Doin' _what_?" he asked again.

"They were beating the crap out of you, okay?" I finally said, my frustration breaking through in my voice. "They beat you until you didn't have anything left on your back or your ribs. They then strung you up with rope and wire and made you stand on a box with broken glass and barb wire. Then they spread salt all over your back and you fell off the box and the wire cut through your arm muscles. I saw it, I felt it, and when I woke up, I got sick and started throwing up. I'm sorry I didn't call you, but I was trying to keep myself from vomiting anymore and not cry. I'm here pretty much on my own. I miss you and I just thought that calling you would only make things worse. I'm sorry; I didn't do it to piss you off."

He was quiet for a moment before letting out a sigh. "I know. I just don't like you out there by yourself. I want you here so that when something goes wrong, I can take care of you."

"Logan, last night I wanted nothing more than to be there with you, curl up in my bed and have you hold me until I went to sleep. When I have nightmares, you make me feel better and less scared and I can always go back to sleep knowing that no matter what, you're always going to be there for me when I need you," I said. "But you're not always going to be _around_. As much as I need and want you to coddle and pet me, there's times when I'm going to have to step out on my own. I love you and you're my best friend, Logan, I don't know what I'd do without you. But you're the one who taught me I needed to start being myself and more independent. I'm just doing what I'm told."

"I never taught you to do what you were told."

"Yeah, well, I do," I said. "I'll be home tomorrow. You can pick me up at the airport and I promise I'll be back to normal." He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Then I heard him swear. "What's wrong?"

"Chuck's just called a mission."

"Who's going?"

"Me, the Popsicle and 'Ro."

"Where?"

"Florida."

"How long?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," I said. "Just be careful, all right?"

"Yeah, I will be."

"I'll see you when I get home."

"Okay."

"I love you, Logan."

"Love you, too, baby."

We said our goodbyes and then hung up, but I stayed in the living room by myself a little longer so I could think. The difference between my parents and Logan wasn't like day and night. It was like two completely different planets. And I found myself unable to survive on my parent's planet anymore. I couldn't breathe there now. I had changed and over the course of a year, I had become someone else entirely.

I didn't know where I fit in anymore.

I left the living room after a few minutes of thinking in solitude and finally rejoined my parents in the kitchen.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" I asked, taking the carton of ice cream from the freezer. I scooped some onto my plate as the exchanged glances. "You said you two needed to speak to me what I was on the phone. What did you need to say?"

"You know, I already forgot," my dad said with a weak smile. "But you know what? This breakfast is fantastic, pumpkin. You did a great job." He gave me a wink.

I smiled back at him and thanked him, but I knew something was wrong. I could feel it. I just didn't know what it was.


	9. Disturbing Discoveries

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, but if you want to sue me, I think I have exactly three dollars to give you. But I do have a talking naked mole rat named Rufus, if that means anything? Although I would perfer not to part with him, he's quite cute and I really love him. So, please don't sue.

Side-note: I hate to beg people for reviews, so I'm not going to. But I spent nearly five months writing this thing and I have no idea if it was even worth it. So if ya'll could just drop a line a say what you think (good or bad, I don't care, I just need to know what ya'll think), I would really appreciate it. I was so terrified the whole time that everyone would be tired of Jayden by now and I still don't know if ya'll are or not. But go on and read and enjoy!

* * *

After breakfast, I helped my father do the dishes and packed most of my stuff away to get ready to go home the next day. Then I took and shower, and when I got out, my mother and I drove to the salon where I had my hair and makeup done for the wedding. After that, it was a whirlwind of going from place to place, getting dressed, having photos taken with the bride and the rest of the bride's maids. I was busy constantly going right up until the actual wedding that evening, and yet my mind stayed centered on Logan. It reached out, trying to link with his and occasionally coming back with a small, faint _I'm_ _here darlin'_. Just strong enough for me to know it was more than a thought.

Once the wedding was over, I let out a sigh of relief. I had gotten through what I had come to do without having a full mental breakdown and I only had one more night before I could go home.

"So how do you know the bride?" I heard a voice ask.

I turned in my seat and looked up at the man standing behind me. I smiled. It was Dr. Lewis. "We went to school together," I said. "I didn't know you knew her."

"I don't. The groom is my wife's nephew."

"Small world, eh?"

"Very," he said. "May I sit?"

"Yeah, go ahead."

"Are you still attending college in New York?"

"Yes sir."

"And are you enjoying it?"

"Aside from the math part, I love it," I said. "I really appreciate you allowing me to go. Thank you."

He gave me a smile. "There's no need to thank me, Miss Rivers. After what you did for me, it was the least I could do for you."

I looked at him, confused. "What did I do for you?"

"When we had our session, it was my wife's birthday. You called out what I was going to do for her; take her to dinner and by her roses. I think you said something along the lines of I could do better and that roses were over rated." He smiled. "I changed my plans that night and my wife was very surprised and happy. Since then I've kept in mind what you told me; I can do better. And I have. So thank you."

"You're welcome."

"I just wish it wouldn't have taken a psychic to see that," he said in a quieter voice.

"I'm not psychic, Dr. Lewis; I'm clairvoyant."

"Sorry," he apologized.

I smiled at him. "It's quite all right, sir."

"How is your relationship with you father going? Logan, right?"

"Yes, sire. And it's going very well. I miss him a lot."

"He didn't come with you?"

"No, he offered but I thought it would probably be best if he stayed at home. But I'm going back tomorrow, so hopefully I'll get to see him soon."

"Good. I'm glad things are going well for you."

We were both quiet as the conversation seemed to fizzle out and we both pretended to have a sudden great interest in the blue punch we were drinking.

"Dr. Lewis, can I ask your advice on something, sir?"

"Absolutely."

"I had a…vision a few months ago, in August, and what I saw scared me. So much that I'm constantly scared and paranoid of every little noise I hear. I barely sleep in a room alone anymore. And I keep having nightmares from what I saw. I don't know what to do."

"Well…I'm afraid that's quite complicated, Jayden. I've never dealt with that before. But I think you have to figure out why what you saw scared you so badly."

"I know _why_."

"Why?"

"Because it was…" I paused, wondering the best way to explain it. "I saw men…hurting me. And Logan, too. They nearly killed him. It was a lot more than that, but that's pretty much what scared me the most."

"And you don't know who these men are?"

"_Were_. There were eleven of them and all but one is dead."

"Should I ask how that happened?"

"From what I heard, one of them killed the nine of them before killing himself," I lied.

"And where did the other one go?" he asked, knowing that I was lying. He also knew what had happened, that Logan had been the one to kill them. He knew that because he knew Logan wouldn't let someone hurt me and get away with it. But he didn't question me or my answer.

"I don't know."

"And _that_ scares you?"

"Yeah, everyday," I said. "I'm constantly looking over my shoulder, hearing noises that aren't there, thinking that people are staring at me when they're not. I don't know what to do."

He thought for a moment. "Remove your focus from the fear you feel to the relief of the situation not going the way you saw it. The situation may have happened had all eleven men not had died the way you say they did. But with one man, one person alone, they're more than likely hiding. I would be willing to bet that no man would go up against your father, and even if they tried, from what I've heard of _him_, he could take care of you quite well. Worrying about a situation you can't control, or doesn't even exist, is only causing you unnecessary stress. You're alive, out your focus on _that_."

"Okay," I said, nodding slowly. "Thank you, sir."

He gave me a smile and patted my shoulder. "No problem, that's what I'm here for." He laughed. "Now, if you would follow me, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

I stood and followed him. We made our way through the crowded reception hall, both of us stopping every once in a while to say hello to someone we knew as we both tried to be polite. Finally, once we had reached the opposite end of the large hall, we stopped. He tapped a man on the shoulder and said a few words to him before introducing me.

"Jayden, this is my wife's other nephew, the groom's brother, Antonio."

He was an attractive man. Dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes. Taller than me and probably at least half Italian. He was wearing a suit and seemed to be doing a good job filling it out.

"Antonio, this is Jayden. I've known her parents for quite a few years."

He smiled at me. He had a great smile and a strong jaw line and I felt my heart palpitating before he ever reached out his hand for me to shake.

"Hi," I said rather shyly. "It's nice to meet you, Antonio."

"It's nice to meet you, too," he said. "You can call me Tony."

"Well, I'll let the two of you talk," Dr. Lewis said.

"Bye Uncle John," Tony said as Dr. Lewis walked away.

"Not to be nosey," I said, "but if you're brothers with the groom, why weren't you in the wedding?"

"I had to work. I wasn't sure if I was going to even make it to the wedding."

"What do you do?"

"My job?" I nodded. "I'm a criminal profiler for the FBI. I've been up in Canada for the past few weeks. That's why I told my brother not to put me in the wedding; I didn't want to screw it up for him if I couldn't make it."  
"A criminal profiler; that means you…"

"Profile criminals," he said with a smile.

I nodded. "I deserved that."

He laughed. "No, I basically just break down the criminal's actions, match them up to reasons that would cause him to act that way and try to find the people who fit the description until we have the bad guy."

"Very cool."

"Are you interested in criminal justice?"

"Sort of. I'm studying to become a forensics scientist."

"So you like the cold hard facts?" he joked with a smile.

"Something like that."

"Where are you going to school?"

"It's a school out in New York."

"Did you move there just for that reason?"

"No," I said. "There were a few reasons why I moved, but that wasn't one of them. It was sort of a last minute decision."

"How long have you been taking it?"

"This is my first year."

He cocked his head to the side and studied me for a moment. "How old are you."

"Uh…I'm nineteen. Why?"

He shook his head. "Just curious."

"How old are you?"

"Thirty."

"Wow," I said.

"Yeah." Neither of us spoke for a moment as we both tried to see if we could jump that hurdle in our way. Then he looked up at me. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

I smiled. "Sure."

We went outside and onto the beach where the wedding had taken place. The sun was going down and the wind blowing off the ocean waters made it chilly. He offered me his jacket and I took it, impressed by the fact that he was being a gentleman. The jacket smelled like cologne and I inhaled it. The scene reminded me of something, I just couldn't quite remember what it was.

"So do you live by yourself out in the Big Apple?" he asked.

"No, I live at a school."

"So you're on campus?"

"Huh?" I asked, confused, before realizing he thought I lived at the college. "Oh, no. I don't live on campus. I live at another school; it's for gifted young people. And we're actually placed in Westchester rather than the city, so it's not too bad."

"You live at a school for gifted kids? Why?"

"It's kind of a long story, but the long end of the short of it is that my biological father works and lives there, so I'm staying with him."

"So the man you were dancing with earlier was your stepfather?"

"Not quite, but good guess," I said. "Actually he's my adoptive father."

"So your mother married him and he adopted you?"

"Well, no," I said. He laughed. "I told you it was a long story. My biological parents were never married and when I was three, my mother gave me up for adoption. A year later I was adopted by the parents I have now. Then I moved in with my real father at the beginning of the year."

"And you like it?"

"Yeah, I do actually," I said. "But wait…when did you see me dancing?"

"About thirty minutes ago. John said he knew you and that he could introduce me."

"So you were watching me?"

He paused for a second and thought. "It seemed less creepy before you put it that way."

I laughed. "Sorry."

"He said the two of you had quite an interesting session, once."

"Okay, I only saw him the _one_ time, thank you, and it was because my parents insisted on it."

"And why did they insist on it?"

I laughed. "That's another long story," I said. "But I thought doctors weren't allowed to talk about their sessions?"

"They're not, and he didn't. Not really. He just told me he thought you were fascinating and that we had some things in common."

"Like what?"

"He said that you were…talented."

"Talented how?"

He stopped on the beach, at the edge of the shore, and we watched the sun sink behind the horizon. He looked over at me and I found my breath strangely taken away. "He told me that you were a mutant, too."

"Too?" I asked with a cocked eyebrow.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and gave me another smile. "This is going to take a long time if you just keep repeating everything I say."

I laughed. "Sorry, it's just…" I shook my head. "I didn't realize that you were…"

"A mutant?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"You're not alone on there. There's quite a few of us now."

"I know," I said. "But that doesn't make it any better at times."

He shook his head, shaking away his smile. "No, it doesn't."

"So ignoring mutant rule number one; what is it that you do, exactly?"

His smile returned, making me happy. "It's called geokinesis, which means I can harden molecules until they're hard as rock. Once they're hardened, I can either build them into a wall, if I need to protect myself, or I can move them with my hands, just with a flick of my wrist," he said. "The only problem is, they're not real visible, so staring at them and trying to keep my eyes on them while they're moving can give me a headache." He looked over at me with a smile. "What about you?"

"I see things."

"Is that your mutation, or are you warning me that you're crazy?"

I laughed. "No, it's my mutation, but the crazy part is probably right, too. It runs in my family," I said. "Have you ever heard of a lynx?"

"Big cat, lives in Canada?"

"Yeah, that's the one. In some Native American cultures it's closely related to clairvoyance. So I'm sort of like a lynx."

"You're like a big Canadian cat?"

I let out another laugh. "Yeah, actually. I'm clairvoyant but I…move like a cat. If I jump from anything higher than twenty feet, I can land on my two feet without any problems."

"And lower than that?"

"Well…I fall. And get hurt. Badly."

"Not good."

"Yeah, not good at all, but I'm working on it."

"Don't cats have good eyesight and stuff, too?"

"Yeah, I have enhanced senses, but they're still developing, so they tend to go in and out on me. Usually when I need them," I said. "Your powers sound cooler than mine, though."

"That's because they are," he said with a small laugh and a wink. "Yours actually sound really useful. Can you see things about other people?"

"Yeah, sometimes. I can grab thoughts or emotions coming off people. Or I have visions of things that might happen. And a strong intuition that I have a bad habit of not listening to."

"Well, want to come back to Canada with me? I think you might be able to do my job," he said with a laugh.

"What are you working on?"

"Have you heard anything about the Blind Man Murders?"

"Yeah, I've been watching it on the news. It's horrible."

"It is. And I've been stuck with the job of trying to get into the sick man's head that's behind them."

"How do you know it's a man?"

"The force that's been used on all four victims in order to kill them is something a woman wouldn't be able to do. Not unless she's a psychotic body building woman."

"You never know; Steroids do weird things to you."

"That's true, but I don't think that's what we're dealing with."

"What kind of person do you think it is?"

"Well, three of the four girls were killed in the woods while running, two of which were very popular trails. So he would have to be someone who would look like he fits in jogging or running with everyone else. That fits in with how he was capable of taking the girls and overpowering them with enough strength that the girls didn't have time to fight back. The eyes have all been removed with little damage to the actual eye socket and although we haven't found any yet, I'm willing to bet the actual eyes are in perfect condition. Otherwise why would they go out of their way to take them with so much care? So they have to be smart enough to know how to remove them without damage. A smart person who more than likely attended medical school and possibly graduated. The last victim, a nineteen-year-old girl who was found in Red Deer, which is between -"

"Calgary and Edmonton," I said, finishing his sentence. "I've been there before. It's quite nice." I had spent a few days there the previous year with Logan. We only stayed about three days before he got antsy and wanted to leave.

"Yeah, it is. I only got to see a small part of it, though. We found a nineteen-year-old girl named Megan Slanders in the parking lot of a bakery. She had gone mission during working hours. They realized she wasn't there and went looking for her about two hours after she was killed."

"So? Maybe they were just busy."

"They said they were. But the point is that the man had gone in and out of the store undetected and knew where to kill her so that she wouldn't be heard when she screamed."

"How do you know she screamed?"

"Wouldn't you?"

I shrugged. "I'm a bit stubborn; if I know someone's cutting my eyes out for their own enjoyment, just to torture me, I would rather bite my own tongue off just to keep myself from screaming."

"I'm afraid she wasn't quite so stubborn. Her face…you could just tell she screamed," he said and I saw a flash of an image run across my mind.

"Could you not think about it please? I'm getting that mental picture really clear."

"Sorry," he said and put his hand on my shoulder. It felt nice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just…I saw the girl." I shook my head. "Sorry, what was your point again? He was able to get in and out of the store without being noticed, or something?"

"Oh, yeah," he said, removing his hand and shoving it back into his pocket. I felt a little sad that he had moved it. "The guy is obviously pretty normal looking, because when we interviewed the employees and some of the customers from that day, no one mentioned anyone looking out of place or odd. We even checked the surveillance cameras and couldn't find anyone that stood out."

"So you're looking for an athletic, possible doctor, good looking guy that happens to be a murderer?"

He laughed. "I didn't say he had to be good looking, just _normal_."

"Okay, so that's millions of men."

"All the murders have taken place in Canada, right with a few cities of each other. So that actually lowers it to just a few thousand."

"Well then, you better start getting a prison cell ready; you're bound to find this guy any day now," I joked.

"Are you making fun of me?" he asked with a smile.

"No," I said. "I'm just being sarcastic."

Oh, that's good. I thought you were making fun of me."

"No. Not after just meeting you, that would be rude."

"Of course."

"Of course," I said with a smile.

"There you go repeating me again."

I laughed. "You caught me," I said, still smiling. "How are you supposed to find this guy? Usually people who fit that description go unnoticed or their communities back up their innocence."

"They got Ted Bundy, didn't they? And he was handsome, charming _and_ smart. That's how he got away with killing more than twenty-two women. We're not going to let this guy match that number."

"What kind of motive would someone have for doing that kind of thing, though?"

"Well," he said, ruffling the back of his short hair. "You can't ever pinpoint exactly why _anyone_ would kill a stranger without a reason. There's no rationality or logic behind the acts, or they obviously wouldn't do it. But a lot of serial killers kill people for the power aspect. You have control over _who_ you kill, _how_ you kill and what you do to them before and after. It's about complete and utter control to them. They don't care if they're taking someone's life, it doesn't really register. It's just a power trip."

"But why take the eyes? What does that do?"

"Well, a lot of serial killers take 'souvenirs' of some sort, but more than likely they mean something to him personally. He could have had a daughter or a sister, or a girlfriend even, that had problems with their eyes and his way of making him feel like he has some sort of control over the situation was to take eyes from someone that reminded him of that person in his life. Or maybe someone saw something he didn't want them to see and his way of righting the situation is to remove the victim's eyes."

"So it's a deeper psychotic problem than just _enjoying_ killing people? It actually somehow makes sense to them?"

"Yeah, in a very sick, twisted way it does."

I was quiet for a moment as I tried to take in what he had said. "Does it scare you to get inside their heads? To find rationalizations in what they do when it seems crazy to everyone else?"

He nodded. "Yeah, it does sometimes," he said. "Does it ever scare you to get inside other people's heads?"

I looked at him, looking him in the eyes, and I knew he was genuinely curious and concerned. "It absolutely terrifies me," I admitted and even I was taken aback by my honesty.

He kept his eyes locked on mine for a minute and I forced myself not to look away. There was something that felt so familiar about him as I looked into his eyes and I couldn't place it.

"Do you want to keep walking?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Tony and I spent two hours walking on the beach and talking. Despite the age difference, our conversation was never affected. He was funny and sweet and we really seemed to be getting alone. Which was something quite surprising to me. I had been so scared to get close to anyone my entire life, but when I met Logan, and Hank, and everyone at the school, I really strived to allow myself to be open. Then after I had my horrible vision, I had become more reluctant to reach out to any new people. But I didn't seem to mind being with him. As a matter of a fact, when we had finally walked back and reached the reception hall, I was actually sad to have to say goodbye to him.

"So," he began, "do you have a last name or do you just go by Jayden?"

I smiled. "No, it's Rivers," I said. "Do _you_ have a last name?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you," he joked.

"If you did, would you have to kill me?"

"No. Just ask for your phone number."

"Oh."

"Why? Are you married, dating…a nun?"

I let out a laugh and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "No, I'm single, but…"

"But what? Another guy?"

"Sort of," I said. "Although he probably wouldn't agree."

"Why?"

"He was married and his wife died a little over a year ago. He's still so in love with her, I don't think I even register to him."

"I don't think that's possible."

I blushed. "Thank you," I said. "But I'm just not sure what he even thinks about me. He and my dad work together, they've known each other for a while, and I'm pretty sure he looks at me like I'm just a little girl."

"But you're not."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I haven't been in a long time."

"Why don't I give you my number and if you want to talk sometime, you can call me. Okay?"

"Okay."

"And maybe you could give me yours, in case I'm ever in New York, maybe we could go out for dinner or something?"

I laughed. "You're very smooth, you know?"

"It's the Italian in me."

"Really? Is that what it is?"

"Yeah, it gives me a weakness for beautiful woman, I can't help it."

I smiled. "I might give you my number if you tell me your last name."

"De Luca."

I gave myself a mental slap and gave great consideration to giving myself a physical one. "I probably should have known that since your brother just married my friend and I've been seeing his name everywhere," I said, shaking my head. "At least I know why you work for the FBI, now; you _have_ to with a name like that. Agent Antonio De Luca."

He laughed. "That's why I started working for the FBI, actually," he joked. "Maybe one day you could come work for us, Miss Rivers. You have a pretty good agent name yourself."

"No, I have the name of a hippie folk singer." He laughed. "I'm not kidding, I do." I shook my head and smiled at him.

"You're not going to give me your number, are you?"

"Yeah, I am. I just can't promise you anything right now, my life's pretty full."

"I completely understand. Mine's the same," he said. "I just don't want to leave without knowing if I'll ever see you again."

My blush deepened and I smiled up at him. In that one quick second, I suddenly realized what felt so familiar about him. I held up my hand. "Wait a second; did you used to be friends with Mathew Swanson?"

He tilted his head to the side and looked at me, confused. "Yeah, why?"

"Because I was friends with his younger sister Jessica. I used to hang out at their house all the time."

He stared at me for a few moments before I saw the realization click in his eyes. "You're _that_ Jayden?"

"Yeah."

"But you were like…"

"Seven years old and you picked on my constantly."

"That's because you used to dress like a Martha Stewart Barbie doll. I never saw a kid as proper as you. It was hilarious," he said. "You don't _still_ dress like that, do you?"

"No, I don't."

"Good," he said. "But this is just -"

"Creepy?"

"Yeah."

"Wow," I said.

"I haven't seen you in what, twelve years? I can't believe you remember me."

"I don't remember you _that_ much. I just remember you mostly from his funeral."

"You kissed me."

"On the _cheek_," I reminded him. "And you looked like you needed it."

"I did," he said. "Thank you."

"That was a long time ago."

"But it was important enough that you remembered it."

"It's because you were the first person I ever saw lose their best friend. You looked so heartbroken."

"I was," he admitted, ruffling the back of his hair. "He was too young to die."

Mathew and Jessica were our next door neighbors. When I was eight and Mathew was eighteen, he joined the Army. I remember when they called to tell us that he had died. My mother broke down and just cried.

It absolutely terrified me.

"You know what they say; only the good die young," I said.

"Do you think that's true?"

"I hope not."

"Me too."

We were standing by the doors that led into the reception hall and I saw my dad come to them and open one before stepping out. "Hey pumpkin, I've been looking all over for you. Are you ready to go back to the house?"

"Yeah, just a second."

He looked at Tony for a second. "Are you Mike De Luca's son?"

"Yes, sir," Tony answered.

"I thought so. You look just like him," he said, stepping onto the patio with us. "I'm Paul, I worked with your dad for a while when he was part of the team trying to get my firm to pick up his slogan for a new line of computers. He's a smart guy."

"Yeah he is."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm Jayden's father," my dad said, pointing to me.

"It's nice to see you again, Mr. Rivers. Your daughter and I were just talking about Mathew Swanson. I had forgotten that we knew each other until she mentioned knowing his sister Jessica."

"Matt was a good boy, it's a shame he had to die so young."

"Yes sir, it is."

"I don't think we've seen you since the funeral. What are you doing now?"

"I'm working as a criminal profiler for the FBI."

"I think Jayden was wanting to get into something like that, weren't you, cupcake?"

"I'm taking forensics science; you have to have a degree in forensics psychology to be a criminal profiler. But maybe once I've graduated, I might go back through and take some classes on it. It sounds really interesting."

"I'll leave that to the two of you; I never was smart enough to do any of that stuff. I nearly failed high-school chemistry," my dad joked. He gave me a kiss on the forehead. "Your mother and I will be waiting for you in the car."

"Okay, I'll be out there in a little bit."

"It was nice to see you again, Tony."

"You too, Mr. Rivers."

We both watched my father walk back inside and then I removed Tony's jacket and handed it back to him. He hooked it on one of his fingers and threw it over his shoulder. He shoved his other hand back into his pocket.

"Thank you," I said to him.

"You're welcome, Miss Rivers," he said. "But am I ever going to get your phone number?"

I smiled. "You still want it even after remembering I used to be the miniature Martha Stewart that you made fun of?"

He gave me a smile that made me weak in the knees and I couldn't help my heart from pounding. "If I knew that cute little girl who used to dress like she was forty was going to grow up to be half as gorgeous as you did, I may not have made fun of you so badly," he said.

I felt my flush burn hotter than before. "You didn't turn out so badly yourself, you know? You're not quite as gangly or geeky as you were before."

"You thought I was gangly and geeky?"

"You thought I looked like a middle-aged woman."

"You did."

"And so did you."

"I looked like a middle-aged woman?"

"No, you -" I stopped and shook my head, laughing. "Never mind."

"So what do you say?" He gave me another brilliant smile. "Are you going to give me your number?"

"Do you have anything to write it on?"

We found some paper and a pen, and then we exchanged phone numbers. He gave me the numbers to his cell phone and his office that was there in California. And I gave him the number to the mansion and explained to him that if he ever called and someone named Logan answered to tell him that he was from my school. Then we told each other goodnight and goodbye and he gave me a kiss on the cheek before I left. I was on cloud nine the whole way back to the house. But once I got there, I came down from my high.

And fast.

I walked into the house, right behind me mother, and I touched her arm as I stepped into the main hall. As I touched her, I saw a series of images flood my mind. And they stopped me dead in my tracks.

"What's wrong, sweeties?" my dad asked, walking in behind me.

My mother turned around and looked at me. I stared at the both of them, wondering how I had missed it and suddenly understanding the reasoning behind all of the tension between them.

"You're getting a divorce?"

They exchanged glances before my mother nodded to my dad. "Yeah," he said.

"Since when?"

"We decided last month and we filed two weeks ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"We were going to this morning, but you were on the phone and when you came back, you seemed a little upset. We didn't want to make it worse," my mother said.

"So you _lied_ to me?"

"We didn't _lie_," she said, "we just didn't tell you."

"It's the same thing."

"No it's not."

"You didn't tell me the truth."

"And you've always told _us_ the truth?" she said. "From what I remember, you ran away from home, you didn't tell us about your biological father, and you didn't tell us that you were a mutant."

I looked at my father. "I'm sorry, pumpkin, but I thought she deserved to know," he said.

"None of that was any of your business," I said to them. "It was mine."

"If that wasn't our business, then our divorce isn't yours," my mother said.

"You're my _parents_, how is that _not_ my business?" I exclaimed.

My mother shook her head. "No, you left us, remember? You're living with your _real_ father now," she shot back.

"You're mad at me because I want to actually spend time with my real father? That's insane."

"No, what's insane is the fact that Paul and I _raised_ you for nearly your whole life while he was no where to be found. And then the moment he shows up, you go running off to him and ignore everything we've ever done for you."

"You never let me be _me_, how is that doing something for me? You held me back, and you treated me like a prisoner."

"We treated you like our _child_. You needed restraints and boundaries, like every kid, but you needed it more because of your mother. She _left_ you, you were a broken child, and we wanted to help you get a better life."

"By turning me into your clone?"

"No, by trying to move you away from turning into your mother. I know what she did to you. She left you and she hurt you because of your father. Because _he_ left you, so she did the same. I tried to make you a stronger person than that. From the moment I first saw you Jayden, I fell in love with you. You were the perfect little girl and I saw how smart and strong and wonderful you could be. I saw that and I couldn't understand how neither one of them could see it. I'm sorry if what you saw me doing as trying to force you into being like me; that's not what I wanted to do."

"Then what _did_ you want me to do?"

"I just wanted to protect my baby. I know I'm not perfect, I never have been, and I'm sorry, but I always made decisions based on what I thought was best for you," she said. "So yes; I am mad that you left us to go live with him. Because _he_ left you Jayden, we never have."

"He left me because he thought I could have a better life without him."

"That's what your mother said, too. It was a _lie_."

"You _knew_ what my mother gave me up for adoption and you didn't _tell_ me?"

"Yes we knew. But we didn't tell you because we were trying to protect you," my father said.

I shook my head. "Logan's not like her. He actually _cares_ about me."

"Does he, or does he just tell you that?" my mom asked.

"Don't even _say_ that!" I snapped. "You don't know him. He's taken care of me since the day I met him. He made me promise that I would come back here last year when I wanted to go with him."

"And you thought that meant he cared about you? It sounds like he was trying to get rid of you."

"If you say one more word about him, I swear I'll walk right out that door and you'll never see me again."

"You can't threaten me with that; you're already gone. You left us a year ago. My daughter never came back."

"Just because I'm being someone who doesn't fit into your perfect mold, I'm not your daughter anymore?"

"No, because you _left_ us. You're with you father now, you don't need us anymore."

"When did I _ever_ say that?"

"You think I didn't see how you acted around him? How close and comfortable and open you were? Do you know how many times I wanted you to feel that way towards me? You tried to pretend, but you have _always_ been a cold child. You never let us in." I looked at her, shocked. "You thought I never noticed? You were supposed to be our daughter, but instead you acted like you were living in a house with strangers. How am I supposed to react to that? When my daughter doesn't even love me?" She was crying and I felt my heart break.

"I _do_ love you, I love both of you. But I was always so scared of getting close because I thought if I did, you could hurt me. I _tried_ to be perfect for you, I did, but everything I did felt like it wasn't good enough or right. I had to dress a certain way, act a certain way, think, believe, do _everything_ in a certain way. I was trying so hard to be what you wanted, but it was never me. _This_ is me. Someone who's scared and confused and still wants to hide away from everyone. I _wanted_ to be your perfect daughter, but I couldn't, and I still can't, because _I'm_ not perfect. I'm not the person you want me to be."

"I never asked you to be perfect, that's not what I wanted."

"No, you never asked me, but you had these standards that were so high, and you expected me to meet everyone without failing once. They were impossible for anymore, let alone a _child_. I was scared out of my mind half the time; I'm surprised I didn't have a mental breakdown before I was ten."

"I was trying to give you a better life! Isn't that what you want?"

"No," I said. "I would rather be living in a crappy house and never own anything new again and have someone look at me, seeing all my faults and flaws and scars and _love_ me than to have everything I want at my fingertips and have to be someone else."

"I never asked you to be someone else. I adopted _you_, as you were, knowing everything that you had gone through. That's who I _picked_, that's who I wanted," she said. "I _never_ wanted you to be someone else. _Ever_."

"But you made me feel like I had to be and I was scared not to. I thought you would give me away, too." I felt tears fall from my eyes and race down my cheeks. "I love you, I always have, and I didn't want to leave, I wanted to stay with you. So I tried to be what I thought you wanted. I tried to be someone you wouldn't want to give away. I was always so scared. And when I went to Canada and found Logan, I found a person who didn't ask me to be someone else. I was me and he accepted it and he loved me," I said, wiping away tears with the back of my hand.

"I called you when I was there, when I had been gone for less than a month, and I asked you to _believe_ me, to have _faith_ in me, to trust me. And you told me you couldn't because you were my real mother. Do you have _any_ idea how much that hurt me? I had tried to be so perfect for you and I never felt like it was good enough. And when I went after someone that was mine, that was me, you told me you couldn't believe me. You couldn't trust me. You couldn't have faith in me, in the daughter that had tried so hard to give you everything you wanted."

I stared at her and shook my head. "And in _that_ moment, I stopped. There was nothing else I could do and there was a man who fit into my life in a way I didn't understand yet. I couldn't be this anymore, so I stopped. _I_ came back, _I_ grew, and _I _changed. But it was _me_. If your daughter didn't come back, then I was never your daughter."

"That's not my fault; I didn't make you act that way, you did."

"Well, I'm leaving tomorrow, so maybe you can go back to pretending you don't have a daughter anymore," I said before storming past her and up the stairs to my old room.

The next day couldn't come soon enough for me.


	10. Pain Without Love

Disclaimer: I don't own them. But oh what fun I would have if I did. Please enjoy.

* * *

"Hey, you're going to freeze to death. What are you doing out here?" my dad asked.

I was sitting in a chair out on my parent's patio later that night. I had gotten out of my bride's maids dress and pulled on some pajamas. Then while my parents were arguing, I snuck out of my window upstairs and climbed down onto the patio. I had never heard them argue before, not really, and I wanted to distance myself as much from them as possible. But my hearing was highly sensitive and I couldn't do anything to escape their yells.

"I'm just thinking," I said.

"Aren't you cold?"

"I have a flannel shirt and a jacket on, I'm fine."

"I didn't know you wore flannel."

"It's not mine. It's Logan's; I just stole it from him."

"Is it in style now, or something?" he asked, sitting in the chair beside me.

"No, it just reminds me of him."

"Do you miss him?"

"Yeah," I said. "I do."

"Is he going to be at the airport to pick you up tomorrow?"

"I hope so."

"Is there a reason why he wouldn't be?"

"He had some business to do it Florida, I don't know if he'll be back in time."

"What kind of business?"

"I don't know, he didn't say."

"Will someone else pick you up if he's not there?"

"Yeah."

"Do the two of you get along well?"

"Yeah," I said, pulling my feet up into my chair and hugging my legs. I rested my chin on my knees. "We fight sometimes, but for the most part we get along pretty well."

"Good…good."

I looked over at him. "What do you really want to know?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can tell that there's more on your mind than just if I miss him or if we get along. You're concerned about me. Why?"

He gave me a small, weak smile. "You can tell all of that, huh?" he asked. He leaned forward, closer to me, and looked me in the eyes. "Is he good to you? Does he take care of my baby? I want to know if you're happy, because that's what I've always wanted for you."

"Yeah daddy, he's really good to me and he takes care of me."

"And you're happy?"

I took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Despite everything that's happened over the past year, I'm oddly the happiest I've ever been," I said. "Or I was, anyway."

"I'm glad."

"That's still not all you want to know, is it?"

"Could you have been happy here?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't think so."

He nodded. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault."

"Who's was it?"

"Mine," I said. I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. "What happened to you and mom?"

"Life."

"How?"

"When you think too much about yesterday and worry too much about tomorrow, you stop thinking about today. And you stop trying."

"But how can you do that? Yesterday is gone, tomorrow doesn't exist, so all you have is today. All you _have_ is right now."

"You're a lot smarter than me, sweet pea, that's for sure."

I opened my eyes and looked at him. He gave me a sad smile. "Why can't you two work this out?"

"Because sometimes things get beyond working them out," he said. "You know, I saw you at the school with you father when we were there and I saw how strong you seemed to be with him. That's what love should be about, shouldn't it? Making the other person strong."

"I don't know if that's what it's about, but that's how it makes me feel. That's how _he_ makes me feel."

"But we didn't make you feel that way?" I continued to look at him as I shook my head. "We made you weak?" he asked. I nodded silently in the dark. "I'm sorry."

"Does life _ever_ make sense?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Does it ever get easier?"

"No," he said. "Things will always be complicated and tough. It just depends on how you look at them. The ones of us who go through the most are the strongest. Obstacles only serve to make them stronger, even if they don't see it. Life slowly prepares us for death, our final obstacle."

"But why can't we see that it's for our own good? Why does it have to hurt the way it does?"

"Do you know who Job is, from the Bible?"

"Isn't he the guy who was given like, a new wife and a hundred kids and cows and sheep, and stuff?"

He laughed. "Something like that, yeah," he said. "But do you know _why_ he was given all of that?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Because he was a good man, but the Devil thought if he was made to suffer, he would deny God. So God let the Devil test him. He took away his family, his friends, his job, his health, everything. And back then, people believed that if something was wrong with you, you were being punished for sins you had committed, and so something was taken from you. Job's friends tried to get him to repent for his sins, but he kept saying he was innocent. After everything that happened, losing his money, his live stock, his house, and eventually all ten of his children, his body was covered in boils. His wife told him to just curse God and die, but he didn't. His answer to her was basically why should we expect good without expecting the bad? In the end, once Job had gone through it all, he was rewarded double everything he had before, including his children. The rest of his life was holy and his death was happy."

"But why did God let the Devil do that? Why would He let him torture Job?"

"It was a test of faith. Job had everything but his own life taken away, and still he praised God. We're supposed to find that kind of strength and courage in our own problems, because once we do, we'll be rewarded."

"How can someone have so much faith in something they don't really know? He didn't know he was going to get all of that back."

"That _is_ faith, sweetie. It's a trust and belief in something without any logical proof. You just feel it. And without faith, we're condemned to a life of doubt."

"Yeah, I've heard that," I said. Hank and I had had a few discussions since our original one in the kitchen the same day I was struck by lightening and he had told me the exact same thing.

"It's true," he said. "Don't you believe it?"

"I don't know _what_ I believe."

"You're young; it's natural to be confused."

"Dr. McCoy says that we're sort of responsible for what happens to us. That everything we think, or feel, or do can be eventually brought back to us."

"Like karma."

"Yeah."

"Well, I don't entirely disagree with Dr. McCoy. I think how we act and react in certain situations help to define events that may happen in the future," he said. "But I don't think we have _control_ over the situations or the events. They're determined for us, our job is just to do our best to get through them and learn from them."

"What if you don't believe in it? Does it still work the same way?"

He smiled. "It works the same for everyone, Jayden, it doesn't matter what or who you believe in. Life has a purpose. We're supposed to learn, grow, teach, and love. Our life's purpose is to become stronger and help other people through their's."

"What's death's purpose? Why do we die?"

"To make life's purpose important. If we lived forever, we would never feel any need to grow. We would get to it whenever we wanted. Death gives us a time limit and a reason to do what we do. Death makes everyday we're alive to be with the ones we love all the more special."

"Do you think if we couldn't die, we would still be tested? Or is it just because we know our time here may not be long?"

"I don't know. Find someone who can't die and I'll ask them," he joked slightly.

"Logan can't die," I admitted seriously. "He's been through more suffering then anyone I've ever met. If he can't die, why would he have to suffer?"

"I don't know. I don't understand what you mean by he can't die?"

"He can't die…or at least it would take a lot to kill him, I don't know. But he's been set on fire, blown up by bombs, tortured and beaten, but he hasn't died."

"How is that possible?"

"Well, he is _my_ father."

"He's a -"

"Mutant? Yeah."

"I didn't realize something like that was possible. I didn't know people could survive that sort of thing."

"I didn't either. He's the only person I've ever met that could," I said. "But if he can't die, why would he be tested for his life's purpose, if he could never connect with death's?"

"I'm not sure what you mean? What's happened to test him?"

"People used to experiment on him. They did things to him that only a sick and disturbed person could come up with, and only someone like him could live through. They tortured him, tried turning him into an animal, making him go mad. Why would they do that to him if it wasn't supposed to make him stronger for death? What's the point of it?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. I can't answer that. All I can say is that sometimes, bad things happen," he said. "Why does he tell you all of that, though?"

"He doesn't, he barely even remembers it."

"Then how do you know?"

"Because I've seen it."

He was quiet for a moment. "In your nightmares?"

I nodded slowly. "Some of them."

"Like last night?"

I closed my eyes and images from my nightmare the night before flashed across my mind. I shook my head, as if ridding my mind of the images. But they wouldn't go away. "Yeah, last night was a bad one."

"Does he know what you see?"

"He knows I see what they did to him, but I try not to let him see it. I don't want him to."

"And can he see what you see sometimes?"

"Sort of. Our minds are linked together, sometimes he can look at my eyes and everything goes to him." I shook my head again. "I hate it when that happens, though. I sort of want to protect him from all that."

"You really love him a lot, don't you?"

"Yeah."

"And he loves you, too?"

I nodded my head. "Yes sir, he does."

"Good," he said. "You tell him I said to take care of my baby. You tell him that he needs to see how special you are and he better be good to my little girl, okay?" I heard his voice choke before I saw the tears fall from his eyes.

I felt my gut wrench, my throat tighten and my own tears threaten to fall from my eyes. I thought of fighting them, of trying to be strong. But I didn't. I decided to let my father see the real me. The one that was vulnerable, and cared, and loved him. And I cried.

"You're still my daddy," I said, crying.

"You don't need me; you have the real thing now."

"But…you taught me how to ride a bike, not him. You were the one who was there when I broke my wrist and was scared when I had to go to the doctor. You were the one who stayed up all night finishing my sixth grade science project so that I could sleep. You're the one who dressed up like a frog prince so I could go to Jenny Thorn's costume party as a princess when I was seven and scared to go by myself. _You_ did that."

"And now it's his turn. You need him, you _love_ him."

"But I love you, too," I said, wiping tears from my cheeks.

"It's not the same, sweetheart. I know that. And it's okay. I just want you to be happy. That's what I've always wanted for you. You're a special person, Jayden; I saw that the first moment I ever saw you. And you are meant for _great_ things. But I want you to be happy because you make me _so_ happy. You make me happy and proud and grateful that I got the chance to be your father, even if it was for just a few years. But you have to do what makes you happy now, because you deserve it. And that's what I want for you."

I had seen my dad cry before. He was a softhearted man and was touched by things easily. And even I had made him cry before. But it had always been because he was happy. That night was the first time I had ever made my father sad enough to cry over me. And I felt my heart ache for him. But I couldn't deny the fact that although my heart hurt for him, it didn't break. Because even though I loved him, it _wasn't_ the same. And although he had raised me as his own, he wasn't _mine_. The only child that could call him theirs had died before I was born. A mutant child that had been killed in the name of mercy and had taken a part of both my parents as he slipped off into the never ending sleep of death. His name was Cameron. I had been a replacement for their child, and they had been a replacement for a mother I barely remembered and a father I had never known. Except we all were looking for the wrong thing, wondering around in a world searching for something we had lost long ago. And I had found it. I had found what I needed. But they were still lost and as I watched my father crying, I knew I was never what they needed. Because the person that they needed had died and they couldn't get him back.

And my heart ached for him.

* * *

I watched the rain outside blow against the windows of the plane where it was parked at the New York airport. I was one of the few passengers still left on the plane. I was happy to finally be home, but I wanted Logan to be there and I knew he wasn't. He was still in Florida. When a flight attendant asked me to please file off the plane along with the other passengers, I grabbed the bag I had with me, pulled on my army jacket over my Xavier's School For Gifted Youngsters hoodie and pulled the hood up to keep the rain out of my face. It was late in the evening, dark, and cold.

But it was home.

I walked into the airport and immediately felt like crying. Logan wasn't there, I knew he wouldn't be, but after looking around for ten minutes, I saw that no one else was there for me either. I found a pay phone inside the airport and dug around in my bags until I found enough change to call the school. Hank answered, apologized for no one being there and said someone would be there to pick me up soon. It was almost ten o'clock that night before someone eventually showed up.

I was sitting in a booth at the airport restaurant and bar by myself with my bags when I felt someone familiar walking up behind me.

"I'm so sorry, Jayden, I didn't think your flight was supposed to land for another hour. I'm really sorry."

I stood up and wrapped my arms around Scott. I didn't say anything, I just hugged him. It didn't matter that we hadn't been speaking lately; I needed him to be there and wanted him to hold me.

And he did.

He didn't ask any questions, he didn't say anything, he just held me. He let me cry into his shoulder and hugged me tightly. I felt him kissing me on top of the head and stroking my hair in an attempt to comfort me. I wanted to be strong; I wanted to keep myself together. But I couldn't. I was finally back home. I was back where I belonged. And I fell apart in his arms.

"Take me home," I whispered through my tears. "Please just take me home."

* * *

I woke up at around three in the morning, not remembering ever waking up, just being awake. When my eye adjusted to the darkness, I saw someone sitting in the chair by my bed and sat up.

"Logan?"

"Hey baby," he said quietly.

"When did you get home?"

"About an hour ago."

"How did the mission go?"

"It went good," he said. "How was your trip?"

"I hated it."

I saw the outline of his head nod slowly. "Summers said you were cryin' when he picked you up."

I pushed the hair out of my face. "Yeah, I was."

"You wanna talk about it?" I shrugged. He stood from the chair and moved over to my bed. He sat down beside me and hooked his fingers under my chin and turned my face towards him. "You ain't gotta talk about it, I just wanna know if you're okay?"

"My parents are getting a divorce."

He let out a breath and pulled me to him, kissing my forehead. "I'm sorry."

I felt the tears from earlier begin to form in my eyes once again and he held me tighter. "I thought I didn't care about them but I do, Logan," I said, crying. "And I hurt them. I didn't mean to, but I did. All they wanted was a daughter that loved them, but I never could when I was with them. But now I do, and it's too late. I just feel so guilty for everything I put them through. It wasn't fair."

"Shh," he whispered to me, wrapping his arms around me so that he could hold me to him tighter. "There's no reason for you to feel guilty."

"But they loved me, they did everything for me, and I just _left_ them. I hurt them Logan, I didn't want to, I didn't mean to."

"I know, baby, I know," he whispered, cradling my head and kissing it.

"Everything hurts."

He gave me another kiss. "I know it does, but you're gonna be okay. Just go back to sleep."

"Will you stay in here with me?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna stay right here. Don't worry," he said, "you're gonna be all right."

I fell asleep for the second time that night crying in my father's arms. And even though I had done it more times that I could remember, for the first time I felt guilty about it. Logan had left me when I was born, and although he had explained to me why, the fact was, he _had_ left. He abandoned me when I was born, and when my mother gave me away, my parents adopted me. They had never left me. They had always taken care of me. Was it right for me to just leave _them_ for Logan? Was it fair? Did it even matter? I was so confused and conflicted. I fell asleep that night crying for my parents, for Logan, and for me. Because it was the only thing I knew to do. It was the only thing that made sense. And even though I knew it wouldn't make everything right, it made me feel better. Because for the first time in my life, I was feeling something for my parents. Even if it was hurt, guilt and sadness.

And so I cried.


	11. Look At Me

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights, you don't sue, we're all happy, yeah? Please enjoy!

* * *

"What's wrong with your hand?" Logan asked the next morning at breakfast.

I looked down at my hands and saw a black ring around my right ring finger. "I wore a ring to the wedding Friday night. It left a spot, but I can't get it to come off. I've tried everything."

"Cheap ring?"

I shrugged. "It was a bride's maids present. I don't know where they came from."

"You can probably ask McCoy. I'm sure he has something you can use."

"I hope so. I don't want to go to school like this tomorrow; my finger looks like it's going to rot off."

He laughed. "You're the only one who pays that much attention to it."

"And you, apparently."

"I'm your father; I'm supposed to pay attention to that sort of thing," he said, giving me a wink.

I felt Scott enter the room and after a couple of minutes, he was at our table. He sat down beside me and I felt his band brush against my accidentally under the table. My heart instantly began pounding at the contact as he went about pouring himself a bowl of cereal, completely oblivious to my reaction. Logan shot me a look, but I turned my eyes away and focused on eating my bowl of Count Chocula.

"They've found another girl in the Blind Man Murders up in Canada," Scott said as he poured milk over his Fruit Loops.

I saw Logan eyeing Scott's bowl, debating between making a comment about his choice of cereal or not. "Nice way to start the mornin' off Summers; talkin' about dead people."

"I only mentioned it because I know Jayden's been interested in the reports."

"What was her name?" I asked.

"Megan Slanders, I think."

I looked up at him. "The nineteen-year-old girl from Red Deer?"

"Yeah, the one they found in the parking lot of a bakery," he said. "Have you already seen it?"

I shook my head. "No, there was a guy at the wedding who was talking about it."

"He knew she was going to die before she was killed?"

"No, he was a criminal profiler for the FBI; he was assigned to the case. He was telling me about the girl that got killed and…I could see her. It was horrible. But I thought they had already reported her death. I didn't realize he was still working on it."

"Well they just told about it on the news a little while ago. They had someone from the FBI talking, but I didn't hear everything she was saying."

"Wait," Logan said, putting his fork down and looking at me from under his eyebrows. "Why were you talkin' to a guy?"

I rolled my eyes. "He was someone I knew when I was younger."

"Yeah, how old is he?"

"A few years older than me. He was friends with one of my friend's brothers. We both used to hang out at their house."

"I didn't ask how you knew him, I asked how old he is," he said.

"He's just, you know, a few years older…he's thirty, but you know, it doesn't really matter," I mumbled, shoving a spoonful of Count Chocula into my mouth and prayed he hadn't understood a word I said. He had.

He swore. "_Thirty_? Where were your parents? Why were they lettin' you talk to a thirty year old?"

"_Let_ me? I'm nineteen, no one _let's_ me do anything, Logan. I'm a big girl, I make my own decisions, and thirty is not that old. That's only eleven years older than me. And I told you; we knew each other from when we were younger."

"What did you do?"

"What do you mean what did we do? We walked on the beach and talked, that was it."

"Really?"

"Yeah really."

"Did you give him your phone number?"

"No."

"You're lyin'."

"No I'm not."

"Yeah you are. I can tell."

"Okay, so maybe I did give it to him, why does it matter? He lives in California, he's been working in Canada for the past few weeks, and I live here in New York. So what if he has my number? All he can do is call me. It's not like we can go out or anything, dude."

"What's his name?"

"George Glass," I lied.

"Hey, wasn't that the name of Jan's made up boyfriend on 'The Brady Bunch'?" Scott asked.

I shot him a look. "I don't know, since I'm too young to remember them."

"Oh, they play re-runs all the time. I'm sure you've seen it."

"What's his _real_ name?" Logan asked.

"Oh," Scott said, the realization setting in. "That's not his real name, you were…sorry."

I let out a sigh as I rolled my eyes. "His name is Tony De Luca. He was friends with the older brother of a girl I used to go to school with. My friend's brother died when I was eight and I haven't seen him since the funeral. We were just talking."

"And you gave him your number in case you ever felt like 'just talking' again. Right?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

"Is he a nice guy?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, he's really nice."

"Are you interested in him?" Something about Scott, the man I was in love with, asking me if I was interested in another man, felt odd to me. "Sorry," he said. "That's none of my business."

"No, it's not," Logan said, barely biting back a growl.

"It doesn't matter, I'm not really interested," I said quietly, pushing around my cereal in my bowl. "I don't have enough time to fit someone like that into my schedule."

"By 'someone like that' you better mean a boy," Logan said.

I looked up at him. "Yeah, I mean boys. I actually think I'm going to start dating chicks, would you like that?" I asked sarcastically.

"No, you're crazier than we are."

"Present company excluded, I'm assuming," I said with a smirk.

"Exactly."

I shook my head. "I meant I don't have enough time to fit in someone who lives on the other side of the country and has a very time consuming job."

"Well someone got outta the wrong side of the bed this mornin'."

"Well if I did, then it's your fault because your hairy self was taking up the whole thing." I gave him another smirk and he gave me a wink and that was the end of our argument.

After breakfast I went down to the lab and visited Hank. He gave me some stuff to try to take the ring off my finger and made me go over my whole week away. I told him everything that had gone on at the wedding, including my meeting with Tony, and my whole ordeal with my parents and their divorce. He, like always, told me that time would take care of it. Part of me was expecting to solve the whole problem for me and tell me exactly what to do. But he didn't. He told me if I felt guilty, I needed to figure out why and find a way to fix it. It wasn't what I wanted to hear, of course. I wanted someone to tell me that I didn't have a reason for feeling the way I did, that I had made all the right decisions. No one was going to tell me that, though. Because no one could.

"Now tell me about this boy," Hank said as he handed me my cup of tea.

"What do you want to know?" I asked, taking the hot cup from his hands.

"How long have you known him?"

"I knew him for about two years, when I was seven and eight. He used to pick on me, I never had a crush on him, and that's about it. We barely knew each other, really."

"But you like him now?"

"I don't know. I mean, he was nice, funny, cute, but…" I took a sip of the tea as I tried to think and picked up on the orange and cinnamon taste to it. "I don't know," I said. "I'm just confused."

"Would it have anything to do with Scott?"

"It would have almost everything to do with Scott?"

"Feel like explaining?"

"Feel like listening?"

He smiled at me. "Go on."

I sat my cup down on his desk. "I _really_ like Scott."

"Is that all?"

I let out a sigh. "Okay. I…love Scott, and I can't ever imagine loving anyone else. I mean, I know I'm just nineteen, I do get that, but I can't argue with how I feel. I've never felt this way about anyone before, and it's confusing. But he doesn't feel the same way -"

"Are you certain of that?"

"Hank, I'm not certain of what my own name is half the time, I'm really not certain about how a man feels about me." He laughed. "All I know is that he's never shown any signs of feeling the same about me, so there's this part of me that's saying there's a smart, funny, sweet, charming, interesting and absolutely gorgeous guy who _is_ interested in me. Who _did_ show signs of liking me, and I'm just wondering what I'm doing waiting around on a man who is never going to see me as anything other than as my father's daughter."

"Because love knows how to wait."

"Yeah, well, part of my brain is screaming that, but another part is screaming that I'm a kid and this whole idea of love that I have is just that; and idea. A very large, sappy romance movie influenced grand idea. Something that doesn't exist. There's a difference between what I feel and what real love is."

"But love is just the discovery of ourselves in others, and the delight in the recognition."

I arched an eyebrow at him. "And who said that?"

"Alexander Smith."

"Never heard of him."

He laughed. "Then how about; so dear I love him that with him, all deaths I could endure. Without him, live no life."

"I've never heard it either. Who said it?"

"Juliet in Shakespeare's famous 'Romeo and Juliet'."

"I've never read it."

"I'll have to change that, my dear. It's very romantic; I think you would love it."

"Why, so that I can add to my grandeur idea of love and romance?"

"No, I think you should read it so that you can understand that you're not the only person in the world who feels the way you do."

I smiled at him. "Why can't everyone be as sweet as you, Hank?"

"Because then you would get very tired of them very fast, if I know you. You have a tendency of getting bored with people quite easily, no?"

"Yeah," I said. "Cotidiana vilescunt."

He laughed. "Familiarity breeds contempt, yes. I didn't think you were actually paying attention to our Latin lessons."

"Of course I pay attention; you're a great teacher."

"Thank you," he said. "Now what are we going to do about this Tony fellow?"

I felt my mouth turn up in a smile as I picked up my tea. "Nothing."

"And why is that?"

"Because he is so the least of my worries right now."

"What's the most of them?"

I held my cup to my mouth, paused just at my lips and thought for a second. "My parents," I said. "I'm going insane thinking about their whole situation…_our_ situation."

"Why?"

"Why?" I repeated.

"Yes, that is what I said." He gave me a smile. "Let's figure out why and then perhaps we can fix it. I'm sure that I've told you before that identifying the problem is half the solution. So first we much identify why you feel the way you do, then maybe we can change it."

I finally took another sip of my tea before setting the cup back down. "My problem is that I feel guilty for never considering how my parents felt about me leaving them. I just saw it as black and white. And now it's like everything's gray."

"How so?"

"Before I just thought my parents were evil, Logan was good. They were wrong, I was right. I had everything figured out, they didn't know anything. And now it's not quite so clean cut. I'm starting to see the mistakes in all my thoughts. And I don't know what to do, and I'm just _so_ confused," I said, hold my head in my hands and letting out a huffed breath.

He reached out his hand and placed it on my arm and then comfortingly he took my hand away from my face and gave it a gentle kiss. Then he held it strongly in his large hand. "One thing at a time, dear," he said. "Do you think you should have left home last year to find Logan?"

"Yes. I couldn't stop having visions of him and I knew I had to meet him."

"Are you glad that you discovered he was your father?"

"Yes."

"And do you think it was the right thing to do by coming to stay here at the beginning of the year?"

"Yes, even Dr. Lewis thought it was a good idea."

"So where does your guilt start? If you think everything you did was right, what are you confused about?"

"I don't know."

"Are you confused about being confused?" he asked jokingly.

"Yes," I said with a laugh. "Fix me, Hank."

"I'm afraid I can't; there's nothing to fix."

I let out a sigh. "I hurt my parents, that I'm not confused about."

"We cannot live without hurting one person or another in our lifetime, Jayden. It we could, we wouldn't be living. Unfortunately you may _have_ hurt your parents, but that doesn't mean that what you did was wrong, by any means. Perhaps you should take some time to adjust to the situation, get your bearings, and then maybe write each of your parents a letter, or call them, and tell them how you feel. If you feel the need to explain your actions, then do. If you think you should apologize or ask for forgiveness, then do it. But don't keep it inside of you."

"That's what I'm best at; bottling up all my problems," I joked.

"Ah, yes, but give sorrow words, the grief that does not speak whispers o're-fraught heart, and bids it break."

I smiled. "Shakespeare?"

He nodded. "From Macbeth."

"So you think a letter might work?"

"Yes, if you didn't want to speak to them on the phone, I think it would work quite well. And you could invite them to write you one in return. Ask them to articulate what it is that they feel hurt them. Just think about it for a little while and take your time writing it, if that's what you feel you should do."

I let out a deep, dramatic sigh. "All right, I think I could manage that."

"Good," he said. "Now your guilt isn't going to cause you to run off and leave us, is it?"

I laughed. "You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."

"I would never dream of trying."

I smiled at him. "I'm glad."

I heard the doors to Hank's office open with a 'swish' and footsteps behind me. I turned around and saw Logan walk in. "Up to a Danger Room session?"

I beamed up at him. "Absolutely."

"Great. Suit up and meet me down there," he said before turning around and leaving again.

I stood from my chair. "Well, thank you for the advice and the tea, Hank. But I'm going to go beat me some computer generated bad guy butt now."

"Just as therapeutic, yes?"

I smiled at him again. "Oh yeah, _very_ therapeutic."

He laughed. "You are so much like your father at times it's frightening."

"Yeah, but I'm better looking, right?"

That earned another laugh. "Much better looking in my opinion, yes."

"Good, I just wanted to be clear on that."

"All right. Be careful training."

"I'll do my best," I said before giving him a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you later, Hank."

"Bye sweetheart."

"Bye."

I left Hank's office, grabbed my uniform and went into the woman's locker room and change. When I got to the Danger Room, I was surprised to find that Logan wasn't the only one there.

"Hey Jayden," Rogue said cheerily, waving at me.

"Hi," I said. Logan, whose back had been turned towards me, turned around and gave me a small smirk. "I didn't know you were training with us, Rogue."

"I invited her," Logan said. "And Slim."

"Slim? As in Scott."

"Yeah, as in me," I heard Scott's voice say from behind me. He stepped to my side, looked down at me and gave me a smile. "Ready to train?"

"I thought you told me I needed to reevaluate my reason for training?"

"I did," he said. "This is part of your reevaluation process. I'm supervising a training session to see how well you do."

I smiled. "If you sat so," I said. "So how is this going to work? I've only trained with Logan before; I'm not used to other people being on our team."

Logan's smirk was steady as it grew and I knew exactly what he was going to say before the words ever left his mouth. "It's gonna be you and Summers on a team and me and Rogue. Whoever's team gets to the end first, wins."

"So what do we get when _we_ win?" I asked.

I didn't think Logan's smirk could get any smugger, but it did. "What makes you so sure you're gonna win, darlin'?"

"I'm clairvoyant, Logan; I can tell the future."

He nodded his head, smirk still plastered across his face. "Winner gets pizza and ice cream. Loser buys."

"Deal," I said. "What are the rules?"

"Do whatever you can to get to the end first."

"Whatever?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

"_Whatever_," he repeated.

I gave him a smirk of my own. I was going to enjoy this.

The training session started out innocent enough. Scott and I worked great together as a team and we were about half way to our target, a warehouse, when Logan came out from a crumbling, old building and attacked Scott. Which was basically the whole point of him inviting Scott in the first place.

I rolled out of the way just in time as Scott sent Logan flying back against a pile of rubble where I had just been standing. I looked around me, my senses not quite working fully, when I felt a kick to my back. I fell down to the floor, catching myself with my hands before my face hit, rolling onto my back and jumped to my feet.

"Sorry," Rogue said, looking truly apologetic. "It's part of the session."

She had kicked me. Hard. And it had hurt. That skunk haired ho had hit me and was actually _apologizing_.

"Yeah," I said. "No hard feelings."

Then I decked her.

I had to give it to her; although she looked like a weak, little southern belle, she could fight. And she was good at it, too. So while the boys were having their fun, I was learning that I really hadn't had near enough experience. Logan and Scott had fought each other before, they knew how, but fighting someone other than a computer generated ninja wasn't quite as easy as I thought. She hit back. And she also kept blocking almost everything I threw at her, and although I got in a few good punches and hits, she got in more. And she was a whole lot stronger than I ever thought.

I had just blocked another one of her punches when she kicked my feet out from under me and I fell on my butt with a loud 'humph' as my breath was temporarily knocked out of me.

"Jayden, duck!" I heard Scott yell.

Despite the fact that I was still out of breath, I did as he said, and watched Logan go flying over my head, sailing on the beams of Scott's optic blast. I heard a loud 'thud' as Logan landed and then a 'crash' as scraps of wood, metal and brick landed on top of him, burying him under a pile of debris.

Rogue looked at me, then into the dark where Logan was, and back to me before she took off running to help dig Logan out.

Scott helped me up and even though I was still having a hard time with my breath, we continued running. Only there was one small problem; you know how when you fall on your butt and there's that weird mixture of sensations and you can't figure out whether to laugh or cry? Well, as my breath was coming back to me, I was losing it just as quickly through pain filled laughs. I was afraid Scott would be upset with me, considering how un-stealthy I was being, but when there was an explosion behind me and he pulled me into a corner of a building to get me away from it, I saw him smiling. Of course at that point I was pressed tightly against his chest and all humor had gone from my body and left me with a red, hot flush.

"I didn't realize you were so good at this," he whispered in my ear, causing my knees to go weak. "I just might have to find you a spot on the team after all."

"If you play your cards right, I just might join," I whispered back.

His smile widened. "Well, I'm an excellent card player, Rivers; I almost _always_ play my cards right." My blush deepened and I wondered if he could see it through his visor. "Let's keep moving; I could do a pizza and ice cream tonight."

I nodded slightly. "Okay," I said. "Let's go."

We both took off once again, quietly, and managed to stay out of too much trouble as we made the rest of our way to our goal point, the warehouse. But both of our maps were saying that the actual goal was _inside_ the house, not the building itself.

"I'll go in first, you cover me," Scott said to me as we reached the doors of the warehouse.

He had one hand on his visor and used the other one to open up the door. He stepped inside.

Nothing.

It was empty.

"I don't understand," I said in a hushed voice as I stepped up beside him. "Who designed this session program?"

"I don't know. Logan was the one who loaded it. I trusted he knew what he was doing."

"He's never gotten it wrong when it's just the two of us. But there feels like there's something missing."

"Like people?"

"Yeah, that."

"Let's keep going," he said.

We continued walking through the warehouse, staying close to the walls and to each other. He walked ahead of me and I covered his back, checking my GPS system every few seconds to see if we were getting closer. And even though I had a feeling in my gut that something was just about to go wrong, nothing did. We cleared the first room perfectly fine.

Then we went to the next room and as soon as we opened the door, the room lit up like the forth of July. Scott turned, pushed me to the ground and covered me. I felt chunks of the fake ceiling hit my right arm that he hadn't had enough time to cover, and then disappear as quickly as they hit the ground.

"Was that supposed to be a bomb?" I asked from where I lay flat against the floor.

"Yeah, I think so."

"It sucked."

"Pretty much." He took a few moments to catch his breath, then he stood and surveyed the room before helping me up. "It looks clear to me; what do you see?"

My eyesight seemed to be coming and going and my ears were ringing from the blast, making me feel a little unbalanced. "It's clear," I said, falling in behind him as he entered the new room. "I don't know about you, but this is the worst session I've ever seen."

"It's probably about to get a lot worse."

And as if on cue, an image flashed across my mind of someone popping up from behind one of the barrels in the room. When the image left, I had two seconds to tell Scott and basically get out of his way. Then he was on the guy like white on rice and an animal attraction I knew I inherited from Logan swelled up inside of me at the sight of Scott winning the fight.

"Just a question, even though this whole thing is simulated, how was that guy supposed to have survived the blast?" I asked as he knocked the man unconscious with his elbow.

"This looks like one of the old simulations. We stopped using them years ago because of bugs and faults like this. Hank built us some better programs, but if I'm not mistaken, this one is about ten years old, maybe more. That's why he didn't die in the blast and why he didn't hear us coming. It's like an outdated video game."

"So by bugs you mean computer bugs, right? Not real ones?"

He looked at me and smiled. "No, not real ones. Why?"

"No reason, really. I just don't much care for bugs," I said. "I wonder why Logan picked this one if it was so old."

"I don't know. Maybe's because he's old."

I laughed. "That could be it," I said. "But enough superhero banter, let's get this thing over with. I'm tired and hungry and need a shower."

"I thought you were going to say you needed a nap."

I laughed. "No, but I could probably use one of those, too."

"No kidding." He smiled and nodded his head. "How much further do we have?"

I looked down at the GPS system clip on my wrist. "It looks like it should be in the next room."

"Okay, one more room and you and get your shower and we can have our pizza."

"And ice cream," I reminded him.

"And ice cream," he said with a smile.

The rest of the room was empty, as expected, but we kept out proper positions anyway. Slowly but surely we made our way to the last door at the back of the warehouse. The GPS device on my wrist was flashing that we were right on target. Scott looked back at me and I nodded at him. Then he opened the door and I stood behind him, ready to back him up if he needed me to. But what I saw in the room in front of me scared me to my very core. I lost all composure, screamed like a little girl and ran from the six or so people inside the room.

I faintly heard Scott calling my name as I ran back through both room we had just cleared and back to the steps of the warehouse. I saw Logan and Rogue arriving and I ran straight into Logan, punching, kicking and hitting him as hard as I could as my heart continued to pound from my fear.

He swore. "What's wrong with you, kid?"

"What's wrong with me? You're a mother effin, son of a ho, jackass, that's what's wrong!" I yelled, punching him once again.

He took my hands and held them still, stopping me from hitting him. "What're you talkin' about?"

"You cheated!" I yelled at him, still feeling my adrenaline rush.

Meanwhile, the Danger Room's voice sounded over head. "Mission: Accomplished. Winners: Team Red."

"How did we cheat? _You_ won."

Everything inside the room began to disappear and I could see Scott walking towards us from about fifty feet away.

"You put freakin' _clowns_ in that room, dude. You know how much I hate them!"

"You think I reprogrammed it to have clowns come out and fight you?" he asked, still overpowering me and holding me still.

"Who else would? You're the only one who knows I hate them."

"I know how to select and open and start sessions. I don't know how to create or reprogram them. And even if I did, I wouldn't've fixed it with freakin' fruity clowns," he spat with an arched eyebrow.

"Then who did?"

"No one," Scott said. "I told you that the older programs had bugs and glitches in them. We once had to fight Rabbis instead of ninjas. No one fixed it that way, it would just mess up."

"There was a whole room of them," I said.

"Actually, there was only about seven," Scott corrected.

"Whatever, there looked like there was a lot more."

"Why do clowns scare you?" Rogue asked.

"I don't know; they just do. They're freaky and I don't like them."

"They weren't real darlin'," Logan said, looking down at my face. "And now they're gone, Scott got 'em all."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't like dolls. They creep me out, too," Marie said. "One year for Christmas my momma bought me a porcelain one and when I unwrapped it, I started cryin' and threw it across the room. I still don't like them."

"So I guess that means no clowns or dolls for either of you this Christmas, huh?" Scott asked with a laugh.

"Not if you want to live," Rogue joked. And despite myself, I smiled. "Why don't we get cleaned up and get ya'll that pizza ya'll won. All right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay."

She gave me a smile and she and Scott began walking away. I moved to go with them, but Logan held me back. Once they were clear of the room, he looked down at me and I looked away. But he took my face in his hands and made me look up at him.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I just got a little freaked out is all. I didn't mean to, but when he opened that door and I saw them, I just started screaming like a little girl."

"You _are_ a little girl."

"I'm nineteen."

"You're still just a kid; don't let it get to you."

"But I _left_ Scott. I'm not supposed to do that. He could have really gotten hurt."

"I doubt there's ever gonna be a situation where we're fightin' clowns. So I think you're gonna be okay, darlin'. Don't worry about it," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder. He stared at me, looking in my eyes. "That's not all that's wrong, is it?"

I let out a sigh. "No."

"You gonna tell me what it is?"

I shrugged with my free shoulder. "I don't know."

He moved his hand from my shoulder and cupped my cheek. "Do you wanna go home?"

"I _am_ home, Logan. I'm with you."

His eyes flicked back and forth, searching mine. His mouth was turned down as he thought, his face serious. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Just be here," I said and I felt tears in my eyes. I tried to fight them off, but I couldn't. "I just need _you_. And I'm happy."

"Then why are you cryin'?" he asked, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

"Because I'm scared you're going to leave me."

His brow knitted together in concern and confusion. "Why would you think that/"

"Everyone else had."

"I'm not everyone else. I'm not gonna leave you, I promise."

"I know, but I'm just so scared sometimes. My mother left me, my parents are getting a divorce and leaving me, and I'm just scared that you will, too."

He held my face in both of his hand and made me look up at him. "I know you got some problems with people leavin' you, baby, and I know a lotta those are 'cause of me. I _did_ leave you when you were little, and I never tried findin' you. But I'm promisin' you now, I'm never gonna leave you again. You're mine now, it's my turn to take care of you and I'm goin' to. You're mine, you hear me? _Mine_. And I ain't gonna let go of something that belongs to me, okay?" I nodded. "Okay, come here," he said, pulling me to him. I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight. "You're gonna be okay, baby, you're just tired right now."

I nodded my head against his chest. "I know."

"It's been a hard week for you, you didn't get enough sleep last night and you're still jetlagged. This trainin' session probably wasn't a good idea."

"I didn't mean to start crying, I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he said, kissing the top of my head. "I know you gotta be tired."

"Yeah," I said. "I am."

"How about you take a shower and then you take a nap before me and Marie get you that pizza?"

I shook my head. "I don't want to be by myself right now."

"Then stay in my room with me. I gotta write out a lesson for history class tomorrow. I told 'Ro I'd do one on World War Two for her, so you can sleep while I write. Okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

"All right, come on, let's go," he said, leading me from the room.

He was right; I was tired. Depression, jetlag, a two hour training session and being scared out of my mind by one of my biggest fears had finally caught up with me and as I left the Danger Room with Logan by my side, I wondered if I could even make it through a shower.

But I did.

When I got to the women's locker room, Rogue was halfway through her shower in her separate stall and the steam had filled the room almost completely. When I started peeling off my uniform, I could make out the faint black and blue bruising already starting to appear, peppered across my body. But there was just something about the heat and hard pressure of the water pounding against my body and muscles that made me forget about how badly I was hurting.

But only for the moment.

I rushed through my shower as quickly as possible and didn't even bother brushing my hair when I got. I had barely gotten myself dried off before I was pulling on a pair of sweatpants and a wife beater.

"What's on your wrist?" Rogue asked as she was pulling on her gloves.

"Which one?" I asked, smearing muscle relaxing lotion over my arm muscles.

"Your right one."

I looked down at my wrist and saw a light black colored line wrapped all around it. "It's probably from where the GPS system was."

"It left a bruise?"

"I guess."

"How?"

"Probably when you kicked me and I fell down," I said, pulling on my school zip up jacket.

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said.

"Don't worry about it," I said, walking towards the door. "It was just a part of the session. Remember?"

I left before she could say anything else and ran into Scott in the hall.

"How do you feel?" he asked, walking beside me as we made our way to the elevator.

"Sore, tired. You?"

"Not too bad," he said. "You did well."

"Yeah, I only screamed and high tailed it out of there as soon as we reached the end. I did _real_ well," I said sarcastically.

He laughed. "So you have a problem with clowns, a lot of people do. It's not a big deal. It's about time you had a flaw or two."

"Oh yeah, I just have one or two," I joked. "I wish."

"What? Does the _real_ Jayden have more flaws?"

I laughed. "I don't know. If you find her, send her my way and I'll ask her."

He pushed the button for the elevator and held the door open for me as I stepped in. "Has she gone mission?"

"I'm not sure I've ever met her. She may not even exist. I've gone back and forth between trying to be what everyone wants me to be that now when Logan tells me to just be me, I don't know who that is."

"It doesn't help that you're an adult now, I'm sure."

"No, probably not. But I am, so I guess I better get over it."

He put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It'll get better; I promise."

I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. "Really? I always thought it got harder. When you're a kid, things come a lot easier. Things seem so simple and…easy. Then you get older and everything gets confusing and things start to get blurry. Just _nothing_ makes sense anymore."

"Okay, so maybe I lied a little bit; maybe it doesn't always get easier. But when you get older, you learn how to deal with things better."

"Yeah, maybe my new wisdom from becoming an adult with kick in soon; I could use it right about now."

He gave my shoulder another squeeze. "You'll be okay."

"I hope so."

"You will. Because I'm going to be here to help you if you need me."

I looked up at him. "Thank you."

He pulled me to his side and I felt his lips on the side of my cheek as he kissed it. I fought to keep standing and to continue breathing as I felt his mouth move to my ear. "If you _ever_ need to talk to me, I'm _always_ here, Jayden. I want you to know that," he said quietly, seriously.

I nodded. "Okay," I choked out, unable to say anything else.

The elevator stopped and before the doors opened, he gave me another kiss on my cheek. "Don't worry; everything will be okay," he said just before the doors slid open.

He stepped off the elevator and into the hall of the teacher's wing without even glancing back at me, leaving me staring out after him, speechless. It wasn't until he had already turned the first corner and the door was closing again before I snapped out of my stupor and finally stepped out of the elevator.

"What was that all about?" I heard Logan's voice say from my right.

I jumped at the sound of it. I hadn't realized he was standing there. "You scared me," I said. "What are you doing standing there?"

"Waitin' on you to get done." He moved from where he had been standing up against the wall and stood in front of me, looking down at me. "What was that all about?" he asked again.

"What was what all about?"

"You and Summers in the elevator."

"Nothing, we just rode up together."

He raised his eyebrow. "Really, that's all?"

"No, we used the emergency button and stopped the elevator, then we went at it like ferrets on speed," I said, the rolled my eyes. "Yeah, we just rode up together, that's all."

"Don't even joke about that, kid. If he _ever_ touches you, I'll kill him. Then we'll see who's laughin' then."

"Well that would be you, wouldn't it? Since you hate him and would rather see him dead than see me happy with him."

"Find something else to make you happy," he said and started down the hall.

"Like what?" I asked, following him.

"I don't know. Take up knittin' or something, I don't care. Just as long as it's not him."

"I'm sorry, but weren't you the one who invited him to train with us today, and then put me on his team?"

"Yeah. And I did that 'cause why?"

"You get antsy when you don't hit things."

"Exactly. And there ain't no one I'd rather hit than him."

"So why did you put me on his side, then? It wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you wanted to be on the same team as Rogue, would it?" He shot me a look from over his shoulder as I continued to follow him to his room. "Yeah, so I'm not the only one who needs to take up knitting, furry-face; you do, too."

He stopped in front of his door, blocking me from getting in, and crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm not chasin' after her like he's chasin' after you."

"That is the biggest load of bull I've heard all week. So congratulations, Logan," I said. "First of all, you're not chasing after her more simply because for the first time in your life, you don't know what to do with her once she's caught. She can't be touched."

"There's ways around that."

I held up my hand. "Gross dude, I don't even want to hear it," I said. "But my second point is; _no one_ is chasing after me. Not him, not anyone."

"Well that sure ain't what it looks like."

"I don't give a care what it looks like. You're my father; it's your business to think I'm pretty enough for guys to chase after me, but -"

"You _are_."

"Yeah, whatever. My point is; you see me differently than everyone else does. Not everyone is going to think I'm pretty, or whatever, just because you do."

"Can you not see yourself, kid? Can't you see what you look like in a mirror?"

"Yeah, I see me. I see a nineteen-year-old _girl_."

He shook his head. "Then you don't see what everyone else sees. You're beautiful, okay? I've seen enough women in my life to know which ones are good lookin' and which ones ain't. You're gorgeous, I _know_ that. And I know how guys act around beautiful women, too. They knock themselves out just to talk to you."

"Thank you," I said. "But he's not doing that."

He gave me the eyebrow. "So you think he just accidentally ran into you as you were gettin' out of the shower? What a coincidence since he got in the shower five minutes before me and it still took him longer."

"So?"

"So? We're guys; we don't take showers that long. I don't know what you do to stay in there for twenty or thirty minutes, but whatever it is, men ain't doin' it. He was stallin'. He was waitin' for me to leave so he could 'accidentally' run into you."

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. "I don't think so, but nice theory."

"It's not a theory. I'm a guy; I know how our brains work and I know what he was doin'."

"Are we just going to stand here and argue all day or are you going to let me in so I can get some sleep?"

He let out a breath. "Yeah," he said, turning around and opening the door. Then he motioned for me to go in.

I went in and walked straight to his bed. Then I took off my zip up jacked and tossed it onto the floor beside me. I pulled back the covers of his bed and was about to crawl in when I felt him staring at me.

I turned towards him. "What?" I asked.

"What's on your arm?"

"Oh," I said, lifting up my right arm and looking at my wrist. "I think it's just a bruise. It doesn't hurt, though."

He shook his head. "No, your left arm. What's on it?"

"What are you talking about?" I looked down at my left arm and saw a thick black stripe wrapped around my bicep. "Uh…I don't know what that is," I said, trying to wipe it off. But it wouldn't budge. "Maybe it's from the uniform, or something."

He came over to me and looked at it. "That's not from the uniform, that's underneath your skin."

"What? Why would it be under my skin? _How_ would it be under there?"

"I don't know, but you're not goin' to sleep right now."

"Why?"

"I'm takin' you to see Hank."

He picked up my jacket and handed it back to me. I let out a whining sound. "I just want to go to sleep."

"You can."

"When?"

"After Hank looks at it," he said. "Come on."

"There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with you," Hank said.

"_Nothing_?" Logan asked.

"Well," he said with a smile, "nothing new."

"Gee, thanks Hank," I said sarcastically.

"I'm sorry, but even though the spot is coming from under the skin, there's just nothing foreign in your system that would cause it. Although the coloration is off, I'm going to say it's just a bruise for now."

"So if you're calling it a bruise, what about the spot on my wrist?"

Hank sat down on the edge of his desk, facing me where I sat on one of his examination tables. He had run a series of tests, including quite a few blood ones, that had taken about an hour and a half. I was tired, worried and stressed out. And he looked about the same.

He let out a sigh. "I'm afraid they're _all_ the same, Jayden."

"_All_? There's just two of them."

He shook his head. "No, the one on your right ring finger is the same."

"What are you talking about? I got that from wearing a cheap ring. We were just talking about it earlier."

"And it's my fault for not inspecting it closer. Logan's observations were right; the color is all coming from underneath the skin."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Right now it doesn't seem to be, no. But I want to keep an eye on them. If they don't go away in a few days, we might start worrying about them. But for now they seem to be okay."

"Then why are you worried?" I asked, looking at him.

"Honestly? Because I'm worried that it may turn into something else. I just want you to be healthy, sweetheart," he said. "But like I told you; I'll be keeping an eye on it, so there's nothing for _you_ to worry about right now. Leave that to me."

"Okay," I said. "But if they're not bruises, then what could they be?"

He moved from his desk and over to me. He titled my chin up to look at him. "That is also something you'll leave for me to worry about, my dear." He placed a soft kiss on my forehead. "Now why don't you go sleep for a while and I'll see you at dinner."

"Okay, thank you."

"No problem, my dear. Go get some rest."

I hopped down from the examination table and left the infirmary without even saying goodbye. I was exhausted and just wanted to get to a bed as soon as possible. I heard Logan tell Hank bye and then follow me out.

"Feel better Logan? There's nothing wrong with me," I said, stepping into the elevator. I leaned up against the wall and let out a sigh as I studied the mark on my wrist. "Nothing new, anyway," I whispered.

"Yeah, I do feel better," he said with a slightly biting tone. "He said there was nothing for you to worry about."

I looked at him. "I don't always do _everything_ I'm told."

He didn't say anything for a minute, he just shook his head. Then he reached out and hit the emergency stop button. I cured myself silently for bringing the button to his attention earlier in my attempt to annoy him. He stalked over to me in the small space and stared down at me. "Why is this bothering you?"

"Because I was fine thinking it was just a bruise, or something. Then _you_ freaked out and drug me down here. And now that I'm actually starting to wonder about it, you're telling me not to worry. That's not fair."

"How is that not fair?"

"Because you don't know how scary it is to have someone say that there may be something wrong with you. Even thought it may seem like nothing now, what if it turns into something serious? You don't know what it's like because _you_ can't get sick!" My frustrated shout echoed off the metal walls and came back to my own ears.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you," he said.

"You can't _stop_ this. If this is a real medical problem, this isn't something you can protect me from."

"So you're mad at me about that?'

"No," I said, letting out a breath. I felt tears fighting to pour from my eyes and I covered them in my tired attempt to fight back. I didn't want to cry anymore. I buried my face into my hands and did my best to keep my voice strong so that I could speak without it betraying me. I removed my face from my hands and looked back up into his face. "I'm mad at you for making me go see Hank when I was content thinking there was nothing wrong. I'm _jealous_ of you because _you_ can't get sick. I feel like I've inherited everything from you but your healing, and that's frustrating."

"Everyone else has to deal with that, too, you're not the only one."

"Yeah, but everyone else isn't your daughter; I am."

His face turned softer and he pulled me to him. "And I'm always gonna be here for you, darlin', you know that. I'm always gonna take care of you."

I fell into his arms and let my tears go. "I'm so tired of being scared," I said, crying. "Every time something starts to go right, everything else goes wrong. I'm just _so_ tired."

"I know baby, it's okay."

"I don't want to die," I sobbed. "I'm scared."

"Hey, you're not gonna die, you're gonna be all right. Things are gonna get better darlin', I'm gonna make 'em better for you, I promise."

But no promise, no matter how great, could stop my fear. Since seeing my own death, and how all that was my life ended, I feared dying. I feared the unstoppable and clung to Logan as my only hope of ever prolonging the inevitable.

Death is a given, a constant in life, always following us like a shadow on the walls. But rarely do we know when our own personal suns will go down and allow the darkness to swallow us whole, dragging us to our own deaths.

Death was unavoidable. Except for Logan. And I clung to him, trying to stay in his light as long as I could and hoped that in the end, he would be the one to hold my hand and carry me into the dark.

Death; it's the only thing assured to us in the beginning and yet we all fear it until the end.


	12. Revalations

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, because if I did, I would be uber rich. But I'm not. And I'm about to burn dinner, so enjoy!

* * *

I was in a bedroom, but it wasn't mine. I had never seen it before. I was in a bed, lying awake, when I heard a noise. Something had moved. And it was coming from under my bed. I feel my body freeze at the sound. I lay there motionless until I heard it again.

"Who-who's there?" I stammered, my voice not sounding like my own. Another noise, from across the room. I saw up and stared into the darkness. "Daddy, is that you?" The bed began to shake, and I screamed.

I sat up with a gasp in Logan's bed. But it took me a moment to reorient myself with the room. I felt lost until I saw Logan sitting at his desk. Everything seemed to foreign.

"Are you okay?" Logan asked. He had been leaning back in his chair with his feet proper up on his desk and chewing on the end of a pencil. But when he saw me, he sat up properly and put his pencil down. I didn't say anything, I just stared straight ahead. "Can you hear me?"

I shook my head, trying to clear my head of its trance. "Yeah, I can hear you," I said.

"Are you okay?"

I felt my head, feeling the beads of sweat before wiping them away with the back of my hand. "Yeah, I think so."

"Did you have a nightmare?" I didn't answer as my mind tried to search through the fog that sat on it, to try to piece together what I had seen. "Honey, did you have a nightmare?" he repeated. Again, I didn't answer. "Honey?"

"Why are you calling me honey?" I asked. "You never call me that."

"What do I call you?"

"You know what you call me," I said, looking over at him. But it wasn't Logan anymore. It was a man in black. He reached out his hand to touch me. His hand was cold and rough on my arm, and I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't.

"Soon my dear, soon."

I woke up with a scream ripping from my throat as I sat up in bed and looked around me, terrified.

Logan immediately abandoned his position where he had been slumping in his chair at his desk. When he reached me, he placed his hand on my arm and I pulled away as my screams ebbed and left me with a shaking breath and body.

"What'd you see?"

"I don't…I don't know," I said.

"Was it a vision or a nightmare?"

"I don't know," I said again.

Despite my attempts to pull away, he held my face in his hands and forced me to look up at him. His touch was warm and soothing, just like his eyes, and I felt my body relax. "If you can't figure it out, I'm gettin' the Professor," he said. "You hear me, darlin'?"

I nodded my head. "Yeah," I said, grabbing his wrists by my face with my hands and held onto them tightly. "It was just a nightmare, that's all."

"You sure?"

I nodded again. "Yeah."

"You want me to get Chuck anyway?"

"No," I said. "I'm okay." I took a couple of breaths before looking into his eyes. "Logan, what do you call me?"

I watched his brow knit together in confusion. "Jayden."

I nodded slowly. "Okay."

He cocked his head to the side. "Why?"

"I just…I just had a weird dream and wanted to hear you say it."

He sat down on the bed beside me, leaned back against the headboard and held me to him. I lay my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. I curled up in his arms like a child and prayed for the simplicity and innocence I once had to return. To help make sense of everything, or to make me not care if it didn't make sense.

I lay there, a scared and confused woman-child in my father's arms. Caught somewhere between letting go of who I was and clinging on to who I was trying to be. Filled with fear from situations I couldn't control or understand; my mind never stopped. It constantly went, trying to figure things out. But I just wasn't smart enough, or strong enough, to know how to transition between them on my own. I didn't know how to get from being a child to being an adult without stopping somewhere in the middle. And yet everyone around me seemed to think it was easy.

Everyone but me.

Anyone who would have walked into his room that afternoon would have seen nothing more than a father comforting his daughter. But to me it was so much more. Logan's very being exuded protection and to be in his arms meant nothing short of complete safety.

When I was much younger and believed in a fantasy world where you could go and everything would be fine, I had thought that the safest place to live would be inside a lion's mouth. Because no one would try to hurt you, for fear of having their hand bitten if they tried to get close to you. I thought if I could go to that world, then I would never have to be scared. But then I grew up and realized that place didn't exist. Until I met Logan. Because in an odd way, when I met him, I found that world. His arms were like the lion's mouth; while I was there, no one dared to hurt me for fear of Logan. But he wasn't a lion. More than he knew, and probably more than he would ever know, he was my angle. The one man who had come in and saved me.

My father.

My angel.

My hero.

* * *

"Hey, I bought stuff for ice cream sundaes, is that okay?" Scott asked.

I had just walked into the kitchen and saw the pizza and ice cream laid out on the island. Logan had let my sulk for about twenty minutes before making me go downstairs to eat. I was glad that he had.

"Uh, yeah, sundaes are fine with me," I said as he put the ice cream into the freezer.

"Good," he said, grabbing the two boxes of pizza. "Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Outside."

"It's raining," I deadpanned.

"That's why we're sittin on the porch." He stared at me for a second. "You might get kind of cold. Do you want to grab my jacket to wear?"

I looked at his leather jacket hanging on the back of one of the kitchen chairs. "Sure," I said. "I mean, if you don't mind."

He gave me one of his smiles that melted me and shook his head. "I wouldn't have offered it if I minded," he said. He sat the pizzas back down and picked up the jacket. "Come here." I walked over to him and he held the jacket out for me to slip into. "There. I think it's a little too big, but it should do the trick."

I could smell his cologne on it and before I could stop myself, I was commenting on it. "Wow, it smells really nice."

He laughed. "You think so?"

"Yeah," I said blushing slightly. "I like your cologne."

He gave me another smile as he picked up the pizzas once again. "I'm glad you like it. Jean bought it for me last Christmas." I watched as his smile faded away. "No, I guess it was two years ago." He shook his head. "Sorry. I lose track of how long she's been gone sometimes." He gave me another smile, but forced this time. "Come on, let's go eat. I'm starving."

I followed him through the kitchen and out onto the screened in porch where there were quite a few patio tables, all the while muttering silent curses to myself for making him bring up Jean. I was so into beating myself up that I failed to notice the table he was walking towards until we were there.

"Did you do this?" I asked.

He gave me a smile, but a real one, and I felt my knees turn to Jell-O. "Yeah, is it okay?"

"Uh, yeah…it's great."

The table had been fully set, with a tablecloth, plates, silverware, glasses, the whole deal. But he had also placed some candles on it and lit them. Our table was the closest to the house and less likely to have the wind blow them out, and with the sun nearly set and what was left of it covered in grey, weeping clouds, the candle's flames created a sense of warmth in a rather cold and bleak day.

With his free hand, he pulled out the plastic patio chair for me. I sat and thanked him. Then he sat in the chair across from me. "I thought we should celebrate our win in style," he said.

"Really?" I asked, looking at the table and everything on it. I felt my heart swell at the sight of it. "All of this is because we won? Because I really don't deserve it."

"Truthfully? No. This isn't all just because we won. I had a bit of an ulterior motive."

I felt my breath nearly leave me at the thought of what it might be and I fought to get words to form in my mouth. "And what was that?" I asked, hoping my voice didn't sound half as nervous as I felt.

He took in a deep breath before letting it out. "I wanted to apologize."

"Oh," I said, "for what?"

"Last month, after our trip to Boston. I know you didn't need me to lecture you about your mutation. I know I always hated it when someone would tell me how I should feel, because until we experience it ourselves, we can't tell other people how to feel. I don't know what you go through; I don't know what it's like to have to live through other people's pains and tragedies. And it was very wrong of me to try to tell you how you should react, so I'm sorry. I just…I don't like seeing you hurt. I thought what I was saying would make you stop hurting, but it didn't," he said. "You're a good friend, Jayden, and I've really missed our time together this past month. I've missed spending time with you and talking to you. And so I apologize for the way I behaved and what I said. I was wrong and I'm sorry." He let out another sigh. "So this was all in attempt to get you to maybe forgive me somehow."

Although it wasn't quite the love confession I had been hoping for, it was sweet all the same. And I found myself braver then I had ever been around him before and reached across the table and placed my hand on top of his. He had it laid palm up and I couldn't stop myself from reaching out and putting mine in his.

"You didn't have to do all this for me to forgive you; all you had to do was ask," I said with a small smile.

He pulled his hand out from under mine and I thought I had gone too far, crossed a line somewhere, and was about to pull mine away when he covered it with his. I watched as my tiny hand disappeared under the covering of his large one and he idly, almost absentmindedly, stroked my wrist and the top of my hand with his fingers.

I looked back up at his face and saw that his smile had returned. "Well then, forget about all of this and just let me say that I'm _very_ sorry. If I hurt you, I didn't mean to. And what I said about you joining the team was wrong. If you want it and you're willing to work hard enough for it, you will _always_ have a spot on the X-Men and we would be lucky to have you as a team mate."

I felt my cheeks flush hot and my heart flutter. "Thank you," I managed to choke out.

I wanted so much for him to see me the way Logan claimed he did. I wanted him to believe that I was a woman, not a little girl, and to see that I was completely in love with him and all that I wanted was for him to feel the same way. I felt it so deeply and strongly inside of me that it hurt. There was an ache in my heart that wouldn't stop until he was mine or I found a way to stop loving him.

I studied his face, desperately wanting to tell him how I felt and knowing I couldn't. But I wanted him to know he meant something to me. "Jean was lucky to have you."

His fingers stopped their rhythmic strokes momentarily as he took in my compliment. "I was the lucky one; I was lucky to have her."

"I never knew her, but I know you. And I know you're a good man, and I know any woman would be lucky to be married to you."

His fingers pick up their movement once again as he gave me a small, kind smile. "And I know that one day you'll make one very lucky man extremely happy."

I dropped my eyes and watched his hand on mine and smiled shyly. "Yeah, I don't know about that."

"I do. You're strong, smart, funny and sweet. And despite your father's DNA, you're absolutely gorgeous." I felt my face burn hotter than before as my flush spread out past my cheeks, to my ears and down my neck. He squeezed my hand as his smile widened. "Of course, you know you're never going to be able to get married without Logan, Hank and me putting the man through the ringer and making sure he's good enough for you, right?"

"Assuming I ever get married."

He titled his head. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I haven't exactly had the best of examples to go by. I don't know that I could make a marriage work."

"It isn't easy, you do have to work at it, but when you find the right person, it's worth it."

"Well, if you could find me a nice guy like you, then I might consider it."

"Take your time. You're still young; you have you whole life ahead of you."

"I hope so."

"Hey, you're not planning on dying on me, are you?"

I gave him a faint smile and shook my head. "No, I'm not planning on it. I'm desperately trying to avoid it, actually."

"Good, because I don't think I could survive losing you, too."

"Then I'm all yours," I said, my voice soft and serious.

He picked up my hand and kissed it. "Thank you," he said quietly. "I really need that."

I could see in Scott a need to control his emotions, to control how everyone saw him, and he did a great job of it. But I felt a part of him that needed for someone to understand how he really felt. Jean had always been the one to understand him. She read his mind and knew everything about him. And he was used to nonverbal communication to express his feelings. But I couldn't read his mind. I caught bits of emotion and broken thoughts every once in a while, but I wasn't a psychic and I was never going to be. And so for me to hear Scott tell me what he thought and felt, despite his reservations for sharing his emotions and his need to keep himself like he was control, meant more to mean than I could express.

I loved him, I knew that, but he was also one of my best friends. I trued him. I _trusted_ someone. Someone who wasn't my real family. After my vision, I was scared of how it would affect my relationship with Scott. I was terrified that I wouldn't want to be around him anymore. But it hadn't affected us. And when I came home, I think he understood that I was still scared, and he didn't push me. He went slow and earned back my trust in him that I never should have lost in the first place.

Scott was a strong man. In a lot of way, he reminded me of Logan, odd as it may seem. They both felt the need to hide their true feelings, to always seem put together. They masked their pain with work, hoping that if they kept themselves busy, they never had to think about what was hurting them in the first place. They were both smart and protective, strong and sensitive, broken and battered. And they were both trying to come to grips with things that had happened in the past that neither could change. They had both lost someone they had loved and were doing their best to find their place in the world now that they were gone.

Logan and Scott were a lot alike. That's why they hated each other; because at the time, they hated themselves.

* * *

My dinner with Scott went great. Once we started eating, the conversation strayed away from the seriousness that had been present at the beginning of the night. And once dinner was over, we cleaned up after ourselves and went back inside for ice cream.

"Chocolate or vanilla?" Scott asked, his head and arm in the freezer.

"Both please."

"Good choice," he said. "I think I'll do the same."

He sat the cartons of ice cream out on the island while I grabbed us a couple of bowls and spoons. He dipped vanilla into one as I dipped chocolate and then we switched. I was scooping out caramelized pecans when I saw him put cherries on his.

"Do you know how to tie a cherry stem with your mouth?" I asked, startling myself by the question.

He looked up at me from his ice cream. "Uh, well…I've never tried," he said. "Why? Can you?"

I pulled a cherry out of the jar and took the stem off before putting it in my mouth. It took me a few seconds to remember how to do it, but eventually I got it right and stuck my tongue out to show him. "Ta da!" I said.

He smiled at me. "That's real talent right there."

I spit it out and threw it in the garbage. "I know, right?" I joked.

"And where, exactly, did you learn how to do that?"

"When I was younger, my dad used to take me out to this restaurant every Sunday. We would always get cherry Cokes and they came out with cherries on them. We made a contest of it, to see who could do it the fastest," I said. "We also made catapults out of spoons and shot little bits of napkins into our empty glasses to see who could get the most in."

He smiled. "So who usually won, you or him?"

"I don't know; we tied a lot."

"Do you miss him?"

"No," I said honestly. "But I wish I did. I feel like I should, I just don't."

"Don't beat yourself up over it."

"I'm trying not to."

He took a breath. "So," he said, "how's school going?"

I smiled. "It's going pretty well, actually. Aside from the math part, I love all of it. But Hank's helping me with that and even though it's driving me crazy, I think I'm getting it."

"Good," he said. "Are you looking forward to going back tomorrow?"

"No, I actually wanted to sleep in, but I guess I'll have to wait until Tuesday. What about you?" I said. "Are you looking forward to going back to school tomorrow?"

"No, I kind of wanted to sleep in, too."

"Take Tuesday off and we can sleep in together," I said. I turned a brighter shade of red. "Well, not _together_, you could be in your room and I could be in mine, but just...whatever. You know what I mean, right?"

He grinned at me. "Oh yeah, I know exactly what you mean."

I shook my head. "Just please forget I said that."

He laughed. "It's fine," he said as he squirted whipped cream on top of his ice cream. Then he looked at me hard, staring at my face.

"What?" I asked.

"You have something on your face?"

I let out a sigh. "Great, am I getting black spots on my face now, too?" I asked.

"No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?" I asked. He reached out his hand, like he was going to wipe it away for me, and the next thing I knew, he had squirted whipped cream on my nose. I felt my jaw drop. "Did you just squirt whipped cream on me?" I asked.

He grinned once again. "You looked like you needed it," he said, laughing.

I wiped it from my nose. "Oh, you are _so_ dead, Summers."

But he kept grinning that same grin. So I picked up the can and sprayed it in his face. This then resulted in him chasing me around the kitchen, trying to take the can away from me. Which he eventually wrested out of my hands and used to spray more in my face, holding me down as he gave me a whipped cream mustache. After wiping it away, I got back up to try to get it back from him. But as I was circling the island, running after him, I found a slick spot on the floor and began slipping. He saw me and tried to catch before I fell, but the floor was too slippery from all of the whipped cream we both had sprayed, and he fell, too. We both fell onto the floor and immediately burst into laughter. I laughed until tears rolled from my eyes and I couldn't breathe.

Scott tried to catch his breath and then let out a sigh. "Oh, I haven't laughed that hard in a long time," he said, sitting up. I sat up beside him and he looked at me. "Thank you."

I smiled. "It's my pleasure."

"Okay, let's trying getting back up now."

He grabbed a hold of the island and used it for support as he pulling himself up. But when he offered me his hand and tried to help me stand, I slipped and pulled him back down. And both of us started laughing once again.

"What in the world is going on in here?" Storm asked as she and Hank appeared in the entrance of the kitchen.

"We're making sundaes," Scott said. "Can't you tell?"

I heard Hank laugh, but Ororo remained serious. "You've made a huge mess," she said.

Scott stopped laughing but continued to smile. "I know, we're going to clean it up, don't worry," he said.

"We just had to get up to do it," I said.

"Hey, I was standing up, but you pulled me back down."

"Not on purpose."

"You still pulled me down."

"Oh fine, I'll get up on my own this time, I don't need your help anyway," I said, pulling myself up with the help of the island as he had done before. "See, all by myself."

He smiled and stuck out his hand. "Good, now help me." I rolled my eyes but helped him up all the same. He turned to the two of them standing in the doorway. "Would you care to join us for ice cream?" he asked.

Storm shook her head and sighed. "Just make sure you get all of this cleaned up," she said and then walked away.

"Hank?"

"No, I'm afraid I can't. I have a bit of work to do in the lab tonight. But you two enjoy yourselves, all right?"

"We are," Scott said.

He turned away, going to get paper towels, and I saw Hank give me a wink before he turned and walked away. And I was left with a feeling that even though Scott wasn't mine, I had been the one to make him laugh. And _that_ was mine.

* * *

After cleaning up the kitchen and ourselves, Scott and I finally got around to eating our ice cream. Then it was time for bed. We both had to be up early the next day and so when we were done, he walked me to my bedroom.

"Thank you," I said as I stood on front of my bedroom door. "I had a really great day today. And I needed it, so thank you."

"You don't have to thank me; I had a good time and I needed it, too," he said. "But thank you for accepting my apology. I've missed spending time with you."

"You too."

"And thank you for making me laugh. I don't remember the last time I laughed that hard."

I smiled shyly. "You're welcome."

"Well, goodnight Jayden," he said, giving me a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight," I said and watched him walk to his room.

I was flying pretty high as I saw Ororo walk past, and didn't think much of it until I heard her say something. It was barely a whisper and if my hearing hadn't been sensitive at that time, I would have missed it. But I hadn't. I heard it and it brought me crashing down, but all I could do was stare at her in shock as she walked to her room and shut her door behind her.

I abandoned my room and walked straight to Logan's. I didn't bother knocking, I just burst straight in. He glanced at me from his desk, but didn't look surprised.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, looking back to his paper.

"I think Storm made that bolt of lightening hit me last month."

That got his attention. He looked back to me again and cocked his eyebrow at me. "What? Why would 'Ro want to hit you with lightenin'?"

"Well ever since we came back home she's been looking at me weird. But I didn't think anything about it because it's not like we've ever been close or anything. Then I was standing in the hall and she walked past me and muttered something."

"So? Why would that make you think she's the reason you got hit? She was talkin' to herself, that doesn't make her crazy enough to do that to you for no reason."

"She wasn't talking to herself. She walked by me and said; he's in love with Jean, leave him alone. She's pissed at me because she thinks I'm trying to take over Jean's place."

He stood up from his desk and walked over to me. "She said that to you?"

"Well, no." His eyebrow rose higher p on his forehead. "She said it but not _to_ me. She said it as she was going by me, and she whispered it. I don't think she meant for me to hear it, but I did."

"If she was gonna' go so far as hittin' you with lightenin', why wouldn't she have done something to you since then? Why would she do that then wait a month and mutter something to you in the hall?"

"Because Scott and I haven't been talking this month."

"Okay, look, first of all 'Ro wasn't even here when you were hit. She was on a mission and I was with her, remember? I wasn't even here, Summers was the one who pulled you out."

"Exactly!" I exclaimed.

He gave me a look. "Exactly what?"

"I don't know, I had a point but I forgot it."

He shook his head and put his hand on my shoulder. "You're tired. Today's been a hard day and that nap you took didn't do much good with that nightmare you had. Why don't you go to bed and try to get some sleep, all right?"

I let out a frustrated breath and pushed his hand away. "Maybe I am tired, maybe Storm didn't strike me with lightening, but she _did_ say that as she was passing me in the hall."

"Okay, so she said it, what do you want me to do about it? You want me to stab her while she's asleep?" he asked sarcastically.

"No," I said, "I just want you to believe your daughter over your co-worker."

I turned and started for his door when he grabbed my arm. "Hey," he said, turning me back around towards him. "I don't believe her over you. If you sat she said that, I believe you. But I wanna know what you want me to do about it?"

"I don't know, but I'm not trying to steal Scott away from anyone, because Jean's dead. And I'm not trying to be her, or take her place either. I just don't understand why she hates me."

"She doesn't _hate_ you."

"Then why would she say that?"

He shook his head and let go of my arm. "I don't know."

I dropped my eyes and looked at my bare feet. "I thought I was okay here. I thought everyone liked me."

"They do."

I shook my head. "No, even if she doesn't hate me, Storm doesn't like me. And this is her home, not mine. I was stupid to ever think it could be."

"Hey, this _is_ your home, you hear me?" he asked, tilting my chin up so he could look at me. "You deserve to be here as much as everyone else."

I felt tears run from my eyes and tried to wipe them away as fast as I could. "No, I don't. They've been here longer, this is their home."

He held my face in his hands and looked down into my eyes. "I don't care how long they've been here. You belong here 'cause I'm here and you're my daughter. You belong with me, and if it's my home, it's your home, too."

"I just want something that's mine, you know? I don't want to be someone's burden."

He dropped his forehead, pressing it to mine. "You're not a burden, don't ever think you are. You can be a pain in my hide sometimes, kid, but I wouldn't give you up for anything. You're _my_ little pain, and you're supposed to always be here to annoy me," he said, giving my forehead a quick kiss before pulling me into a hug. He cradled my head with one of his hands and rested his chin on top of it. "And you do have something that's yours; me. I belong to you as much as you belong to me, and I'm always gonna be right here."

"Do you promise?" I asked through my tears.

"Yeah baby," he said. "I promise."

And while I was wrapped in my father's arm, I felt all the world disappear, leaving just the two of us.

I never could have imagined that a man I had only known for a year would be the one unwavering thing in my life when I first met him. Because when we had first met, he wouldn't even let me tell him my name. And yet one year later he was holding me, calling me his baby and promising he would always be there for me.

Time does that to us. It makes us grow and change. Some of us face it head on, while others in fear. Time ages us and takes us further from those that we loved that have passed. It's invisible, but we feel it all around us.

In that moment, time stopped for me. Nothing of the outside world mattered. Just the two of us. And I had never felt more loved by anyone before that moment.

In that moment, when time stood still, I realized that my home would never be a place. It was Logan. And as long as I was with him, I would be safe. And happy. And loved. I would be home.


	13. Changes

Disclaimer: Same old stuff - I don't own the rights to Marvel, FOX or the title of this story. But hopefully I'm doing them all proud. Please enjoy!

* * *

The next week seemed to go by painfully slow. All I wanted was for the weekend to get there as soon as possible so I could sleep in. So when I was sitting in my last class that Friday, I couldn't wait until it was over. Technically, the teacher was through, but we had to stay in the class room for another ten minutes. And the clock on the wall was going so slow, it almost seemed like it had stopped entirely. So I sat there, listening to my class mates talking. Someone had brought up something about reincarnation and they were all discussing what they may have been in past lives. A guy named Bashar, who I had sort of become friends with and was the comic relief of the class was going next, explaining who he used to be.

"I used to be a ninja," he said, using a generic Asian accent and moving his hands in a mock fight stance. "Or Frank Sinatra." I laughed. "What about you, Jayden? What were you?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Oh come on, you have to play."

"Uh," I said, tapping my pencil on the table. "A pirate."

"Nice one. Everyone watch your stuff; Jayden might steal it."

I laughed and continued listening to the rest of the class talk. Even though we were all joking about it, I wondered if maybe it was true. A lot of people believed in reincarnation and on some level, it made sense to me. When we died, who was to say that our souls, or whatever, _left_? Maybe there was no higher or lower plane, like Heaven and Hell, maybe there was just here, Earth, and when we did, we're born into another body. Maybe that's why when we meet someone for the first time, we instantly feel comfortable around them. Because maybe our souls recognize each other from a past like. And maybe, if we work hard enough and do good things, when we're reborn, we're given a better life and a chance to be with the people we love again. I didn't know, but I thought it was as good an idea as any and was seriously intrigued by it. I made a mental note to ask Hank about it sometime.

"All right, get out of my class," our teacher joked as the clock read three in the afternoon.

I stood and grabbed all my stuff, shoving my books into my bag, before pulling on my leather jacket and slinging my bag on my shoulder. Then I got in line and filed out of the class room with the rest of the students.

I began heading towards the parking lot when I heard Bashar call out my name. I turned and walked over to the group of people around him.

"I'm having a Halloween party at my house tomorrow and you're coming."

"I can't."

"Yeah, you have to. And everyone that comes has to dress as who they were in a past life. So you have to be a pirate."

I laughed and shook my head. "No, I really can't go. We're having a party for the kids at the school and I somehow got elected to help, so I have to do that."

"When does it start?"

"I don't know, six or seven, I guess."

"Great, mine doesn't start until eleven. You can go to both."

I smiled. "I really don't think my dad would go for that. He's not exactly the party kind of guy and I don't think he would let me go."

"You're nineteen; no one has to _let_ you do anything. That's the great thing about being an adult," he said. "Come on, you're going to hurt my feelings." He gave me a fake pout.

"I'm sorry; I just don't think he would be cool with me going to a party that late at night by myself."

"Doesn't he trust you?"

"Yeah, he's fine with me. It's everyone else he doesn't trust."

"He picks you up on Fridays, right?"

Logan took me to school on Mondays and Wednesdays, and then I rode home with Bobby. But on Fridays I rode in with Bobby and Logan picked me up. Since Rogue had her own schedule, completely opposite either of ours, she drove herself to school and I rarely even saw her there. But since it was Friday, Logan was supposed to be there to pick me up.

"Yeah," I said. "Why?"

"When he gets here, I'll talk to him for you. I've never even met him before. He just pulls up in that car with the tinted windows and you hop right in. For all I know, it's not even really your father."

"And who would it be _besides_ him?" I asked with a smile.

"A ninja alien."

"Why are you obsessed with ninjas?"

"Because they're freakin' awesome," he said. "So are you going to let me talk to him or not?"

I shrugged. "Dude, if you're not too scared to talk to him, you're more than welcome to it."

"Why would I be scared?" he asked as I heard a motorcycle pull into the parking lot.

The group of either of us, including Bashar and me, turned to look at it as it parked. We watched as the man riding it climbed off, leaned up against it, and then took of his helmet.

"Who's that guy? He seems too old to be here, don't you think?" one of the other students, a guy called Sam, asked.

"I don't know, but he's hot," one of my classmates, Amanda, said.

"He sort of has a James Dean, Marlon Brando thing going on," Bashar said.

"Only hotter," Amanda added and the other two girls in the group agreed.

"He looks kind of weird to me," Sam said. "And now he's looking over here at us. Great."

"Give it a rest. It's not like he's going to chop you into little pieces," a girl named Hilary said, staring off at the man in the parking lot along with the other girls.

"Really? Because he looks _exactly_ like the kind of guy who would."

"Chill out, he's too hot to be crazy."

"That doesn't make any sense Amanda; your appearance has nothing to do with how your brain works. Just because you think he's attractive doesn't mean he wouldn't kill you."

"You are _such_ a killjoy. Bashar, tell me you didn't invite him to your party."

"You know, he doesn't really look so much like James Dean _or_ Brando. He almost looks…cooler."

"I'm going to go talk to him," Hilary said.

"He's my dad," I finally said. I felt a little guilty, but I had never seen other people's first reaction to Logan and I just wanted to know what they thought of him.

They all turned towards me and looked shocked. I almost expected their jaws to drop and hear a collective 'What?' But they didn't. Thankfully.

"_He's_ your dad?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah."

"But he's hot."

"If you say so."

"Does he kill people?" Sam asked.

"Not for a living."

"Good."

"I have to go. I'll see you guys on Monday," I said. "Bye."

"Wait, I was going to ask him about the party," Bashar said as I began to walk away.

I turned back towards him. "You still want to ask him?"

"Yeah, sure. I mean, if he's not going to beat me up, or anything."

"Okay." I walked across the parking lot to where Logan was, with Bashar following me. "Logan, this is one of my class mates, Bashar. Bashar, this is my dad Logan."

"It's nice to meet you," he said, sticking his hand out for Logan to shake.

Logan barely shook it before pulling his back and glaring at him. "So what do you want?"

"Uh, well," he started, sounding nervous. "I wanted to ask if Jayden could come to a party at my house tomorrow. It'll be after her thing at your school, and someone could pick her up and drop her off."

"Are there goin' to be other guys and beer there?"

"Uh, probably."

"Then no, she can't go."

"You wouldn't let me go to a party with nuns if I wanted," I mumbled.

He turned his glare on me. "And if you _wanted_ to go to a party with nuns, I'd worry about you."

"Why? You don't think I'm good enough to be a nun?"

"Keep it up and I'll send you to a monastery to live with 'em."

"Buddhists live on monasteries Logan, not nuns."

He cocked his head at me. "Nuns live there, too. And you're still not goin' to the party, no matter where they live."

I looked over at Bashar who still looked incredibly intimidated. "Thank you for inviting me, but I can't go. Have fun, though, and happy Halloween."

"You, too. I'll see you on Monday."

"All right, bye," I said and watched him walk away. Once he was back with the rest of the group, I gave Logan a look.

"What, do you actually wanna go?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"I thought you were scared about goin' places like that by yourself? You don't like crowds."

"I don't, but I'm trying to get over that. Dr. Lewis told me that I needed to remove my focus from the fear and put it on the reward I'll get from whatever it is I'm doing."

His eyebrow arched high on his forehead and he swore. "You've been talkin' to that quack psychiatrist again?"

"That quack is paying for my college."

"No one asked him to."

"Well who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?"

"Summers. I've had it up to here with him and his plans for that stupid freakin' party tomorrow. I'm not touchin' one more pumpkin this year."

"Well don't take your anger out on me; I'm not doing anything."

He let out a breath. "I know," he said, running his hand back through his hair that somehow managed to avoid getting flattened by his helmet. "Put on your helmet and hop on, we're goin' for a ride?"

"Where?"

"We're gonna get something to eat and stay as far away from that Hell hole of a mansion as possible for right now."

I did as he said, put on my gloves, tightened up my backpack straps and climbed on after him.

And then we took off.

I held on tight as we rode through town. I buried my face in his back, trying to avoid the cold wind in my face and wanting nothing more than to go to sleep against him. But every time I would almost doze off, he would rev the bike to wake me up. Then he would smirk and chuckle.

"Stay awake, darlin', I don't need you fallin' off the bike," he said as we were stopped at a red light.

"I'm trying, I'm just tired."

"We're almost there, hang on."

And we were off again.

Fifteen minutes later we were pulling into some old burger dive I had never even heard of. But my growling stomach didn't protest, so neither did I. I followed him inside and ordered. But just as I was getting warmed up again and starting to get feeling back in my nose, we left. We rode to some park. There was no one else there because the fact that the park also happened to be half graveyard seemed to deter everyone but the creepy people away. Which begged the question; what were we doing there?

"Gettin' as far away from the school as we can for now," he said, sitting down on the ground. There was a stone wall that was about two and a half feet tall. He leaned up against it and began digging through our bag of food.

I sat down beside him. "So what is it Scott's having you do that's driving you so crazy?" I asked, accepting my burger from him.

"Carve pumpkins."

"So? What's wrong with that? I love carving pumpkins. I'm not any good at it, but I love it."

"He's not wantin' me to use a knife, he's wantin' _me_ to do it," he said, holding up his hand, which was balled into a fist and showing his knuckles. "These ain't freakin' carvin' knives. They're meant for me to kill people, not make Halloween decorations."

"Did you tell him that?"

"No, I told him to bite me; I was goin' to pick my daughter up."

I smiled. "Well that could be your problem right there," I said. "You should have said to him; what we have here is a failure to communicate."

He looked over at me and smiled. "Cool Hand Luke?" I nodded. "You're not completely hopeless, kid."

"Thank you," I said, pulling off my gloves and biting into my hamburger. "So what is the big, bad Wolverine going to be for Halloween?" I asked, my mouth full.

"Nothing," he said. "You?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, probably not anything either. I haven't dressed up for Halloween in years. My mom thought it was a bit silly to keep doing it after I was like, ten."

"I'll take you to get a costume, if you want?"

"You know, as much as you may hate it, you're actually a sweet guy."

He raised his brow briefly. "Yeah, that's me; sweet," he said sarcastically.

I laughed. "Well, not _conventionally_ sweet, but in your own weird, Canadian, old man kind of way you are." I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "So thank you."

"Is that a yes or a no on the costume?"

"Would you buy me a big, poufy, pink princess dress?"

He looked at me with disgust. "Is that what you want?"

"No." I shook my head. "I just wanted to see if you would or not."

"Hey, as long as you're wearin' it and not me, I don't care what it is. As long as you don't look like a whore."

I laughed loudly, scared some of the ducks that were wandering over to us from the small pond that separated the park from the cemetery. "So being a hooker wouldn't work?"

"Not unless you were an Amish one."

I laughed again at the thought of an Amish prostitute. "I don't think they have those in Amish villages," I said, still laughing.

"They got a few, just not a lotta people know about 'em."

I cocked my eyebrow at him. "How would you know? Have you ever been to an Amish village?"

"Once, and I ain't ever plannin' on goin' back to one any time soon."

"What in the world were you doing with them?"

"Let's just say you should never fall asleep while ridin' a donkey and drinkin' moonshine, all right?"

"Yeah…I'll keep that in mind."

We are the rest of our meal in pretty much silence. When I was through eating, I tossed the French fries that I had left to the ducks and watched them fight over the food. The weather was starting to get cold and I snuggled into Logan's side. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close to him and I let out a sigh.

"You seem less tense than usual; things goin' good at school?" he asked.

"I'm just glad October's almost over."

"Why?"

I didn't say anything for a moment as I debated between whether I should tell him the truth or not. "I was supposed to die in October," I finally said in an almost whisper.

"No, that wasn't gonna happen."

"Yeah it was, just not in this time."

"Well, I'm not gonna let you die now."

"Good, I don't want to." I felt him kiss the top of my head. "Logan," I started timidly, "what happens when you die?"

"I don't know," he said. "But you ain't gonna find out for a long time, darlin'."

"No, I mean what happens to _you_. There's a point when your body is dead, right? Before it heals back. What happens to you then, when your body dies, where do you go?"

I felt him tense up and his body go slightly rigid. He didn't say anything for a while and I began to wonder if he was ever going to answer. "You feel a kind'a pain that goes beyond physical, the kind that messes with your head, then this world's gone," he said. "I see a light, maybe it's real, maybe it's not, I don't know. People always talk about seein' it, but maybe it's just out minds processin' something that can't really be processed. I don't know. I don't care. All I know is if I go there, if I walk into that light, that's it for me. I'm dead for good." I heard the sound of his hand rubbing his whiskers as he paused for a moment. "And then I see all of 'em. Jean, Mariko, a couple others I can't really remember but some part of me recognizes them."

"All the women you loved?"

"And died, yeah," he said. "They're all standin' there in the light, tellin' me to come to 'em. And every time I didn't, it got harder. It got to a point where I had more people waitin' for me there than I did here."

"What changed?"

"You," he said. "Every time I die and slip off there, I ain't tempted to go to 'em anymore. 'Cause I hear you callin' me back. And I don't wanna die and leave you. You're stronger than they are, you're louder, and you bring me back." He gave me another kiss on top of my head and held me to him tighter. "You bring me back," he whispered.

I grabbed the hand he hand on my shoulder and squeezed it. I never told him how much those words meant to me. He said I brought him back, but he was the first person who ever came back for me. And he would never understand what that meant to me.

* * *

I woke the next morning at nine o'clock and hated myself for not being able to sleep later anymore. Before I could easily sleep until one in the afternoon when I had the chance. But my internal clock refused to let me anymore.

I got out of bed and stretched. My body was stiff from sleep, the little I actually got anyway. It had been another night full of nightmares that didn't make sense but left me sweating and shaking in my bed. At some point around four in the morning, after rocking and humming to myself for nearly two hours, I finally fell back to sleep, convincing myself that all of the noises I heard were simply coming from the tree branches brushing against my window. And so after my night of little sleep, my body was stiff and tired.

I walked into my bathroom and turned on the water in my shower to let it warm up. While it was running, I grabbed my toothbrush and put toothpaste on it. I looked up into the mirror, ready to brush my teeth, and then dropped my toothbrush. And what I saw made me scream.

It took about thirty seconds for Logan to reach me, and when he did, his eyes went wide at the sight of me. He swore and I kept screaming. Half out of terror, half out of frustration. Finally he pulled me to him, held my face n his hands, and got me to calm down. But by that time, Scott and Hank were there and my fear was pushed back to the surface by their reactions.

"Oh my stars and garters," Hank mumbled.

"What happened?" Scott asked, and I didn't have to see his eyes to know he was staring at me.

"I don't know," I said, too stunned even for tears.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror once again and couldn't keep myself from the long string of swearwords that escaped my lips. I had gone to bed the night before looking normal, with the exceptions of the nine or ten black rings wrapped around my arms, wrists, and fingers. I had become used to them and as long as Hank was telling me I was healthy, I was fine. But when I woke that morning, something had happened. My brown hair was in black. My hazel eyes had turned an icy blue and my iris had changed shape, it was no longer round, but looked like a cat's eye. And my teeth, both sets of my eyeteeth had grown and become sharp, like a cats, like fangs.

"I look like a freakin' vampire," I mumbled to myself as I looked at my reflection.

Logan turned my head so that I couldn't see myself, then he led me to my bathtub where he sat me on the edge and turned off the water before sitting down beside me. "Hank, you're gonna figure this out," Logan said more as an order than a question.

"I'll do my best," he said, "but I'll need to run some more blood tests. And quite a few others. Are you up to that, Jayden?"

I stared up at him and Scott numbly. "I look like a vampire," I repeated.

"It's not that bad, I assure you. It's just a little jarring at first. You'll get used to it."

I shook my head. "No, you don't understand."

"It'll be fine," he said.

"No, she's scared of vampires," Logan explained.

"Oh," he said.

"What happened to me? Why do I look like this?"

"Well, it could simply be part of your mutation. Most mutants experience some sort of physical change as they're going through puberty, it may just be that."

"You're aware of the fact that I went through puberty like, nine or ten years ago, right?

That's where _these_ came from," I said, pointing to my chest, "and they didn't just pop up over night." The three of them looked uncomfortable, but I was frustrated and freaked out, and I didn't care. I just wanted answers. "So, _what happened to me_?"

"I don't know, I can only guess until I've run some tests on you."

"Well start guessing McCoy, before I start craving blood, okay?" I snapped.

"Actually, vampires don't drink blood. It's simply a myth that Bram Stoker created for his story. And even if it was true, just because you may resemble a vampire does not _make_ you one. So calm down."

"Then what am I? What's happened to me? Tell me that and I'll calm down." I felt Logan's hand on my back and I took a few deep breaths to calm myself. "I'm sorry; I just want to know what's wrong with me. I want to understand what's happening to me and know why it's happening this way."

"And I promise I'll do my best to give you the answers that you want and need," Hank said.

I nodded. "Thank you," I said quietly.

I looked down at my hands. There were new rings around my wrists and arms, too. The more of them that showed up, the more I was reminded of tribal tattoos or Indian bendi art. I didn't understand it. I had never even considered getting a tattoo; I had no interest in covering a part of my body with ink. And yet that's exactly what looked like was covering my skin. Tattoos. Thick bands of black wrapped around my left arm, with a couple of thin ones in between. A pattern opposite that was displayed on my right wrist, with two skinny black bands wrapping all around my wrist, with no discernible beginning or end, and in the middle was one of the larger ones. A few more were scattered across the rest of my arms, hands, and fingers. In a way, they were almost beautiful. But I didn't understand them and so my mind refused to accept them as anything but a problem and a betrayal to my body.

"Does this have anything to do with these?" I asked, running a finger over the single band wrapped around my left wrist. I looked up at Hank and Scott, the expressions on their faces were controlled, but their thoughts said they pitied me. I shook my head and let out a breath. "Don't feel sorry for me; just figure it out, okay?"

Their expressions seemed less controlled and they both felt embarrassed for letting me have felt that from them. "I'll do my best, sweetheart," Hank said. "I promise."

I nodded. "Okay," I said. "Can I take a shower before you start doing tests, or do you need to do them now?"

"No, that will be fine. When you get done, you can meet me in the lab."

"All right, I'll be down there in a little bit."

He nodded and then turned and left, leaving me with Scott and Logan.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked.

"Look at me," I said. "Do I _look_ okay?"

"You still look beautiful to me."

I heard a low growl start somewhere in Logan's chest and dug my fingernails into his leg. He let out a louder one, aimed and me, and then stopped.

"Thank you," I said. "But something's clearly wrong with me and I want it figured out and fixed. This isn't me."

"It's not what's on the outside that counts," he said.

"You ever believe that load of bull?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then good for you."

"You shouldn't worry about it until Hank has your test results."

"Unless those results are going to fix me, it doesn't really matter what they say; there's still something wrong with me."

"Hank said it could be a part of your mutation."

"That decided to develop nineteen years later?"

"Your senses didn't start developing until this year, why not?"

I shook my head. "Yeah and why don't I just sprout a tail, and grow some fur on my ears? Hey, I might even get some whiskers," I said sarcastically. I rolled my eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. "It doesn't make sense. No one has _that_ many powers. That would be ridiculous. And even if -" Before I could finish my sentence, I felt my top eyeteeth sink into my bottom lip and immediately the copper taste of blood filled my mouth. "Freakin' A!"

Logan stood and grabbed a wash cloth from my shelf and ran it under some cold water, then handed it to me. I put it on my lip, but it didn't help much.

"Summers, why don't you leave and let me take care of my daughter, all right?"

"I'm not trying to keep you from taking care of her."

"No, but you standin' there arguin' with her ain't helpin'."

"I'm not arguing with her Logan; it's calling being comforting."

"No, it's called bein' condescendin'."

"And how is that? Because I'm telling her not to worry?"

"You ain't tellin' her not to worry; you're treatin' her like she doesn't know what's goin' on. She's not stupid."

"I'm well aware of the fact that she's not stupid, I think she's incredibly smart. But she _doesn't_ know what's going on, no one does, and it's pointless for her to worry about it right now."

"What's pointless is you standin' there. She doesn't need you right now, she needs me. I'm her father and I'm gonna take care of her."

Scott held up his hands, indicating to me. "Go on then; be my guest."

"Well leave so I can."

Scott stood in the doorway of my bathroom just long enough to piss Logan off further before telling me bye and then leaving.

Logan leaned back against my sink and crossed his arms over his chest, staring at me. I kept holding the washcloth to my lip that I could already feel swelling. "What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly.

I looked up at him and took the rag from my mouth. I could still taste the blood but tried to ignore it. "Fix me," I said finally, my voice low like his.

"I don't know how."

"Then stay with me until someone can."

He nodded. "I can do that."

I nodded along with him. "Okay."

It didn't stop me from being scared, nothing could right then. But it made me feel better. _He_ made me feel better.

When he was there I felt safe.

I felt strong.

I felt invincible.

And I prayed to whoever was out there to let me keep him. Because I knew how weak I was when he wasn't there, when I thought he was gone, and I knew that if I lost him right then, I would break far beyond repair.

I needed him because Logan was my heart and without him, I died.

* * *

"Well, the good news is you're still perfectly healthy," Hank said.

It was almost one in the afternoon and he had just gotten back all of my test results. A few hours before I started feeling tired and had crawled into one of the hospital beds in the infirmary for a nap. I woke up after a couple of hours to find out that nothing had happened except that Logan's arm had gone to sleep from where I had been laying on it, and then he had gotten up to go to the bathroom.

"So what's the bad news?" I asked.

"Since nothing is wrong, I'm afraid it can't be reversed."

"So I'm stuck like this?"

"Perhaps it will right itself eventually, but for right now, yes, it's not going away."

"Then what happened?"

"As far as I can tell? Nature."

I pointed to my eyes and my teeth. "_This_ isn't nature. This is freakish."

"You're telling this to a man who's blue and covered in fur, my dear."

I sat on the edge of the bed and looked down at my bare feet. "Sorry Hank. It's just that this is new to me. I don't know what to do; I'm not used to this."

"It will take some time to adjust to the changes, I'm sure."

"You don't understand."

"I understand that you're afraid of vampires and you feel you resemble one. But you don't. You still look beautiful."

I shook my head. "No, it's not that."

"Then what is it?"

I looked up at him and I felt a tear run down my cheek. "I don't look like Logan anymore."

"Oh sweetheart, you are still very much his daughter, no matter how you look."

I shook my head again. "We used to have the same eyes. And now…now that's gone."

"Yours and Logan's connection goes beyond physical. Just because you don't share the same eyes doesn't mean you don't still share the same soul."

"Yeah, but I thought the eyes were the window to the soul?"

"Yes, but the blind also had souls, do they not?"

I shrugged. "I've never met a blind person before."

"What about Scott?"

"Scott's not blind."

"No, but you can't see his eyes. Does that mean we're cut off from his soul?"

"I don't know. I don't know anything about souls or where they come from, or go to. I don't know."

"Are you still confused in what you believe?"

"Yes," I said with a sigh. I wiped away the tears left on my cheeks. "What do you know about reincarnation?"

"Well, reincarnation is believed to be the act of being born, dying, and being born again. Although some religions differ on how all this is done, the one common link they have is karma. Some believe that if you lead a good life and do good things, your next life will be blessed. And so on and so forth. Others believe that in order for you to leave this world to go to a heaven of sorts, you must earn your way there by your good deeds, which may take many lifetimes, obtaining a goodness or righteousness before being allowed to pass on."

"You believe in karma, right?"

"Personally, yes, but not in reincarnation."

"So karma is just what we do that's good?"

"Not quite. It's everything that we do. Have you ever heard that we teach people how to treat us?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Well, it's the same basic principle. We teach the universe how to treat us. Karma is the idea of everything we have done, are doing, and what we will do all rolled into one."

"So even if we want to do good things, if we've done a lot of bad, it won't work?"

"Not entirely, no. If one were to truly want to change and had seen the err of his ways, then yes, he could change. But first we must acknowledge what we've done, honestly wish to change it, and then do. It's not easy, I assure you, as they say; old habits die hard. But I believe that it's worth it. We can not always have control over the events that happen, but we have control over how we react. And if we choose to react in a positive way, then eventually things seem to get easier."

"And if we do bad things, we're punished for it, right?"

"In a sense, yes."

"And what would the punishment be? Something bad happening to you?"

"Perhaps."

"Do you think I'm being punished for what I did to my parents?" I asked as I saw Logan walking towards the room.

"No, Jayden, I don't think so."

"Can we talk about this later?"

"Yes," he said as Logan walked into the room. "Ororo believes in reincarnation, you could talk to her about it."

"Yeah, maybe," I said. I didn't think it was right for me to tell him about what Storm had said because they were friends. I wasn't going to say anything that might hurt that.

"You get the results back?" Logan asked, standing beside me.

"Yes," Hank said. "I was just telling Jayden that she's absolutely fine. All the tests show she's extremely healthy. Far more than most young women her age, actually."

"Then what's the explanation for what happened?"

"As I told her, as far as I can tell, it's just the natural evolution of her mutation. It may not be ideal, physical changes rarely are, but I'm afraid it is what it is."

"And the black marks?"

Hank let out a breath and looked back through some of the papers on his clipboard. "Have you ever heard of a disease called Vitiligo? It's where the skin suddenly loses its color and becomes white."

"No," Logan and I both answered together.

"It's what Michael Jackson claims to have happened to him."

"What did he claim made him so weird?" I asked.

"It's genetics," Logan said.

"Well I'm screwed."

"The point being," Hank said, taking control over the conversation, "that seems to be the problem in Jayden's case."

"But she's not turin' white."

"No, and there's no trace of the disease in her bloodstream, either. But it's similar in the fact that the pigmentation underneath the skin is changing colors. For her it's turning black. The only thing I can't quite figure out is why, or even _how_, it's showing up in tattoo like patterns."

"That's the only thing you can't figure out?" I asked.

"Well, not quite. But for now it seems to be the most prominent concern."

"Is it curable?" Logan asked.

"It's treatable, not curable. But as I can't seem to find any traces of the disease, I don't know how well it would respond to any medications."

"So basically, you don't even know if this is really a disease at all?" I said.

"Basically," he answered. "It could very well be a part of your mutation as well, I assume."

"Yeah, because there's just really not enough of that taking over my life right now. Let's throw in some crazy looking tattoos," I said sarcastically.

"I'll be keeping an eye on it and as soon as I can come to some sort of conclusion, I'll alert you firs thing," Hank said. "I promise."

I let out a sigh. "Okay, thank you."

"Do you have any more questions?"

I thought for a moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Then you, my dear, are free to go."

I stood from the hospital bed and gave Hank a hug. "Thank you," I said again.

He hugged me back and gave me a kiss on my head. "You're very welcome."

Logan and I told Hank bye and then left. On our way up in the elevator, I saw him staring at me from the corner of my eye.

"I realize I look weird, but do you have to _stare_ at me?" I asked.

"Who said I was starin' at you 'cause you look weird?"

I turned towards him. "Why else would you be?"

"I don't now, you're my daughter, sometimes I just like lookin' at you. You got a problem with that?"

"No, but I know that's not _why_ you're looking at me."

"Then why am I?"

"I don't know; I just know that has nothing to do with it."

"What were you and McCoy talkin' about when I came in?"

"I asked him about reincarnation."

"That was it?"

"Yeah."

He didn't say anything for a moment and then he suddenly reached out and hit the emergency stop button on the elevator. I rolled my eyes. It was the second time that week he had done that. He turned to look at me. "Then why were you talkin' about your parents?"

I let out a breath. "We were talking about reincarnation and karma and how that all worked together."

"What's that got to do with them?"

"I asked him if he thought that what was happening to me was like karma getting back at me, or something."

"Again," he said, stalking over to me in the small cart, "what does that have to do with _them_?"

"I hurt them, for fifteen years. I lived completely unattached to the people who were supposed to be my parents. And I thought I was the only one affected and that they didn't notice. But I was wrong. I hurt the only people who tried to love me and give me a better life. I threw everything away that they did for me, like it was no big deal."

"So?"

"So if karma exists, then maybe it's punishing me for what I've done."

He swore. "You're countin' on something you can't even see to _punish_ you for that?"

"Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not real."

"Well I don't trust anything that doesn't have a face."

"But _I_ don't know what I trust. I don't know what I believe." I slid down the length of the wall and sat on the floor of the elevator. "_I'm_ still confused," I said, looking up at him. "Some people think that when they go through stuff like this it's to try their faith. But what happens when you don't have a faith? It can't be tried. So if this isn't to make my faith stronger, what is it other than punishment?"

He sat down against the wall beside me. "Sometimes crap just happens. That's just how it goes."

I shook my head. "No, I don't think this would have happened if I didn't deserve it somehow. It doesn't make sense any other way."

"Kids die everyday from diseases they were born with, or from psychos killin' 'em. You know that, you've seen it. You watched a whole bus of kids burn to death in a vision. You think they deserved that? You think they were bein' punished for something?"

"No."

"Then why do you think you are?"

I looked over at him. "Because this isn't death, it's not the same thing."

"Why not?"

"Because a punishment is something you live through."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder and pulled me to him. "This isn't a punishment."

I felt myself fall apart as I began to cry. My body shook as tears flowed from my eyes and ran down my cheeks. "It's taking you away fro me," I said between my sobs.

"No it's not, baby. I'm still here no matter what."

I looked at him and shook my head. "I don't look like you anymore. It took that away from me."

He pushed the hair from my eyes and cupped my cheek in his hand. "It doesn't matter what you look like; you're still _mine_. I don't care what color your eyes are, when I look in 'em I see _you_. You hear me? I see you, and you're my daughter, you're mine. Nothing's ever gonna be able to change that."

I fell into his arms and continued to cry and he kept holding me. I was scared and confused and all I wanted was to understand what was happening to me. But what I needed was to be held by my father. I needed him to put his arms around me and make me feel safe. I needed _him_. I always had and I knew I always would.


	14. Failure

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I'm just ripping people off. : ) I apologize for the lack of updates over the weekend; I, like I'm sure everyone else, was reading the new Harry Potter book. If ya'll haven't finished it yet, I hope you all enjoy it but until then, please enjoy the next chapter!

* * *

I had been lying in bed with the covers pulled up over my head for about an hour when I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in," I called out, my voice muffed by my piles of blankets and pillows.

I heard the door open and expected to hear Logan yelling at me to get out of bed and stop moping, or even Scott just checking on me. But I certainly didn't expect the voice I heard.

"Hey, I have to run out to the store for some more Halloween stuff, I thought you might wanna come with me?" Marie said. "Jayden? Where are you?"

"Under here," I called from my bed, where I was buried beneath my covers.

"Are you sick?"

"Not according to Hank."

"What's wrong?" she asked and I could hear her walking closer to me.

"Just not too happy with my appearance right now."

"I know that feelin'," she said, sitting in the chair by my bed. "I have ugly days, fat days, my hair looks like crap days and my skin's too pale, my pores are too big and I just found a zit days. They're not fun."

"This is worse than a zip. At least they go away eventually; this won't."

"What is it?" I let out a sigh and pulled back my covers and sat up, facing her. "So? What's wrong?"

"My hair is the kind of black only gothic kids who want attention purposefully dye their hair, my eyes are blue and uber freaky looking, and I have fangs. _Fangs_. That's what's wrong."

"It doesn't look bad."

"Are you on crack? I look like a freakin' vampire," I said, swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, letting my feet rest on the floor.

"I think it looks kind'a cool."

"That's because you're not the one who looks like this."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But I know what it's like to have your appearance change. Look at the white streak in my hair."

"Have you ever thought about maybe _dying_ it?" I said with a slightly condescending tone.

"No, actually. I like it. It reminds me that not everyone's scared of my skin. Logan touched me, knowin' it might kill him, but he did it anyway to save my life. I like bein' reminded of that when I look in the mirror."

"Well, this reminds me that I hate being a mutant sometimes, so I'm not so keen on keeping it this way."

"Sorry," she said. "Why don't you come with me? Shoppin' might make you feel better."

"You want me to go out looking like this?"

"It's Halloween; who's gonna notice?"

I opened my mouth to say something sarcastic. And then I closed it. What I had done to my parents had happened. There was nothing I could do to change it. But Rogue was sitting right in front of me, doing her best to be nice, and I had control over how I treated her. If karma existed, I hoped it was watching. Because I swallowed my pride and made a decision to attempt something almost impossible for me; be friendly with Rogue.

"Okay, give me a few minutes to get ready," I said and hoped my words didn't come out sounding half as disgusted as they felt.

She gave me a smile, looking truly happy, and stood from my chair. "All right. I'll be down stairs gettin' a list of what we need from Scott. Meet me down there when you get done."

"Okay," I said, forcing as much of a smile as I could muster.

Once she left, had shut the door behind her and I could hear her footsteps fade away, I flung myself back onto my bed and let out a groan. I hoped what I was doing was worth it.

I covered my face with my hands. "I must be desperate," I muttered to myself.

And I was.

* * *

I got dressed, attempting to find something to make my eyes and teeth look like they were part of a costume instead of actually being real. But I felt like everything I put on only drew more attention to it. I finally gave up, put on my old worn out blue jeans, a pair of sneakers, and pulled my leather jacket on over the wife beater I was already wearing. I took the stairs down to the first floor and as I was coming down the main staircase, I saw Logan, Hank and Scott talking to Rogue.

"Ready to go?" she asked as I walked up to them.

"Go where?" Logan asked.

"She's goin' to the store with me," Rogue answered. "I'm gonna go get the car and meet you out front, okay?"

"Yeah," I said and the four of us watched her walk away. Then they all turned back to me, and Logan gave me the eyebrow. "What?"

"Don't you hate her?" Scott asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, maybe."

"Wait," Logan said, turning to Scott. "How did _you_ know she doesn't like Rogue?"

Scott gave a laugh. "Yeah, I'm not _that_ clueless, Logan. I can tell when people like or dislike other people."

Hank shook his head and let out a sigh. "Is there a reason behind why you've decided to spend time with Rogue?" he asked.

"Yeah, I think all this crap that's happening to me is because I'm not exactly…nice." I shrugged. "I just want to be a better person. A good one."

"You _are _a good person, Jayden. I'm not saying that you shouldn't be nicer to Rogue, but I really don't think it effects what happens to you," Scott said.

"Yeah, I keep tellin' her that; she won't listen."

"So you want me to be nicer to her, but just not expect anything in return?" I asked, raising an eyebrow of my own.

"Pretty much," Scott said.

"Yeah," Logan added, "that sounds about right."

I rolled my eyes. "Why?"

"I think what they're attempting to say and failing to do so well enough is that we don't want you to set yourself up for a fall. While although past actions may have somehow caused the events that have and are happening to you to occur, it's just as likely that they didn't. And even if they did, not everything you do can rectify every situation. Sometimes things happen simply because they much. We continue to grow and learn as people and keep going on," Hank said.

"But you told me that everything we do is brought back to us with astounding accuracy, though. Do you still believe that?"

"Yes, I do. And this very well may bring you to a conclusion on how to deal with what you're going through. But I believe that by being nice to Rogue, in turn she will be nicer to you. I think that's how your actions will be brought back to you."

"Well freakin' A, dude. I thought you all _wanted_ me to be nice to her, and now that I'm trying to, you guys are telling me not to."

"No we're not," Scott said, putting his hand on my shoulder. Logan growled and moved his hand. "No we're not telling you that," he said. "We're just saying that you should do it without expecting anything from it."

"Does it really matter _why_ I'm doing it, just so long as I am? I mean, I like seriously had to suck up my pride. I thought you guys would be proud of me."

"We _are_ proud of you," Scott said, touching my arm.

Logan growled again. "Summers, get your hand off my daughter before I _cut_ it off."

Scott pulled his hand back to him, tucking it by his side as he crossed his arms over his chest once again.

"We are proud of you, sweetheart," Hank said. "No matter what reason, it takes a lot to swallow your pride, and for that we are extremely proud."

"Yeah, well, you sure aren't acting like it," I said, then turned and began walking towards the front door. I was almost there when I felt a hand grab my arm. I looked up at Logan. "I'm doing this for myself. And for the record; just because I'm being nice doesn't mean I agree with, or even accept your relationship. Not yet."

"I know," he said. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"Tryin'."

"I don't know what else to do."

"That's all I want."

I nodded and let out a sigh. "Good," I said. "I'll see you when I get back home."

He pulled me into a hug and gave me a kiss on my cheek. "Be careful, all right?"

"Yeah." I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. "I love you, Logan."

He gave me another kiss on my cheek. "Right back at'cha, kid."

I left the house and saw Rogue in one of the school's cars in front of the stairs, waiting on me. The wind whipped my hair as I hurried to the car and the sight of the black strands instead of their natural brown only served as a reminder of how mad I was. I never wanted a normal life; I didn't even know what _normal_ was. But I was a mutant, I knew that, I accepted that, and I also knew that along with it came a life of anything other than normal.

I had been seeing visions for as long as I could remember, I barely knew my birth mother and I had been living with my new, overprotective parents since the age of four. And they tried to force me into a mold for 'normal' girls my age. Which I had never fit and bucked completely once I met Logan.

I was aware of the complete oddity that was my life. I lived in a mansion with my biological father, who was a mutant that was well over a hundred years old and head over heels in love with a girl barely older than me. My best friend was a genius covered in blue fur. The person who's opinion I valued most was a bald crippled psychic who most revered, holding them high as an example of high achievement of mutants in a human's world, while others thought him a manipulator. And the man I was in love with was the leader of a band of mutants willing to put their gifts to good use and lives on the line in order to save others. A team that I wanted desperately to be a part of. Added to that the regular pressure of needing to fit in, to be like everyone else and just be perfect in general. Be a perfect student, friend, daughter. To strive to be a person everyone could be proud of, which is what I believed everyone wanted.

I knew I wasn't the perfect student; I did all my work to the best of my ability, was polite and got along well with most of the students and all of my teachers. But I was far from the top of my class and doing my best to keep above a sixty in my math class. If I didn't get my grade up, I was going to have to take it again the next year.

I knew I wasn't the perfect friend either: I didn't know how to let myself just be open. It took conscious effort in order for me to get close to people. I was terrified of being hurt by them and scared that they would leave me. And even though I tried as hard as I could, it was still difficult for me to be myself and let other people get close to me.

And I knew I really wasn't the perfect daughter; that I was very far from. I wanted so badly to be the perfect daughter, and yet I managed to fail in every way possible. I had failed my birth mother by reminding her of the man she couldn't hold onto, she couldn't make care about her. I failed her by being an embarrassment every time she looked at me. I failed her to the point she gave me away.

I failed my parents by never being the loving, warm daughter they had hoped for. I had pretended to be close and loving, but they knew it was all fake.

And worst of all, I failed Logan. That's what hurt me the most. We weren't the perfect father and daughter, we weren't even conventional ones, but there were certain things I felt obligated to do. Like get along with his 'girlfriend'. I wanted him to be happy, I knew he deserved it more than anyone else, and yet I failed him. I was trying, I really was, but nothing inside of me was okay with her. And I failed him every time I brought up my parents. He wanted to pretend that it had always been the two of us. That they had never been a part of my life and he was the only person in my life. He worked so hard to make me happy, to take care of me and make sure that I knew he loved me. He made me feel that no matter what, he would always protect me. And I knew that every time I brought my parents up it hurt him. It made him feel like he wasn't doing enough for me. But he was. He was the best father he knew how to be. He had gone from having no responsibilities to having a fully grown teenage daughter thrust at him. Even though he wanted me to be with him, no one could possibly prepare themselves for that. No one could ever be ready to take that sort of drama on all on his own. And yet he had. But still no matter how hard he tried to do his best, I failed him.

I didn't have a normal life, I was never going to. My days were spent studying or going to school. And when I wasn't at college or doing my homework, I was working out in the gym or training in the Danger Room. I was dealing with the fact that I hated the woman my father was in love with, he hated the man I was in love with, and I couldn't get Tony the FBI agent far enough from my mind to make me comfortable. Storm pretty much hated me and contrary to the evidence, I still suspected that she had struck me with lightening.

On top of all that, I was also dealing with visions I couldn't completely control, nightmares that I didn't understand, and a strong sense of paranoia every time I left the school grounds. Despite was Dr. Lewis had said, I was having a hard time letting go and not worrying. I feared at anytime something might happen and was constantly on guard. And adding to that the fact that I now _looked_ differently, I was no longer able to blend in, I was having a hard time dealing with that. But more than anything, I didn't know how everyone else would take it.

As I said; I didn't want a normal life, I didn't even know what 'normal' was anymore. I didn't want a perfect life either; I just wanted a stable one.

"So what are you goin' as tonight to the party?" Rogue asked after we had been driving in the car for about ten minutes without saying a word.

"Nothing; I'm not dressing up."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't in about eight or nine years."

"What? Are you serious? I love Halloween. I like it better now that I'm at the mansion, though."

"Why?" I asked.

"'Cause my momma didn't like it. Her and my daddy were real religious and they didn't like it. We always went to a church party instead of goin' trick-or-treatin'."

"Did they think trick-or-treating was wrong, or something?"

"Not really, they just said Halloween was the Devil's holiday, or something, and thought it was wrong to go out and celebrate it."

"Well wouldn't it still be celebrating even if you went to a church?"

She laughed. "Yeah, probably."

"Did you always go to church when you were younger?"

"Every Sunday. My daddy worked on Wednesdays and we only had one car, so that was the only time we could go."

"Did they make you leave home?"

She changed the radio to some country music station. "No," she said, letting out a sigh. "I left on my own. They never said it, but I knew they thought that bein' a mutant was a punishment from God."

"What do you think?"

"I think He made us how we're supposed to be. That doesn't mean I always like it, though. It's not easy not bein' able to touch people, you know? But I know I didn't do anything to be punished for. I was just a kid doin' what all kids do."

"What were you doing?"

"I was supposed to be studyin' with a boy from school. We weren't datin' or anything, but you know how it goes when you're younger. You're just excited when boys start to like you and notice you. I was showin' him a map of where I wanted to go after school and talkin' about plan for gettin' out of Mississippi. He was my first kiss, and I put him in a coma for nearly a month. The only boy I've kissed since then was Bobby, and that didn't work out too well, either," she said with a bit of a laugh.

"Well, that's two more than me."

She looked over at me. "You've never kissed anyone before?"

"No."

"Purposefully or it just hasn't happened yet?"

"I wasn't allowed to date until I was eighteen. Not that I exactly knew a ton of guys before then, since I went to an all girls school and all. But I've been a little busy since being 'allowed'. The one guy who I was going to go out with turned out to be a psycho who wanted to torture and kill me. So I've been a little put off by that."

She laughed again. "I find that guys wantin' to kill you will put you off datin' for a while."

"No kidding."

She played with the radio stations a little more, until settling on a song she liked. It was something about a woman named Fancy, or something, but I wasn't paying too much attention to it. "What about Scott?" she said after the song ended.

"What about him?"

"You like him, don't you?"

"No," I lied.

"I think he likes you."

I would have been more than happy to have just dropped the conversation completely, but when she said that, my curiosity got the best of me. "Why do you think that?" I asked, trying to sound as casual and uncaring as possible.

"'Cause he's happy with you."

"What do you mean?"

"When Jean died, everyone took it real hard. But Scott took it harder than anyone else, obviously, since she was his wife. At the beginning, I barely ever saw him; he stayed in his room all the time. He didn't shave, he barely ate and Storm had to take over the team and me and Bobby had to pick up the slack since he wasn't able to do anything and Logan was gone. When he finally started comin' out and tried to get back to teachin', he just looked so pitiful. Like he was completely lost, or something. I mean, eventually he got better; he got back into a routine and at least started pretendin' like everything was okay. But he still looked lost, you know? Then when you showed up, there was something different about him. Like he wasn't so depressed anymore. And the longer you were there, the happier he was. Then when you and Logan left back in the summer, it was like he had gone back to how he was right after Jean died. Like he was lost again. He did the same thing when you went back to California last week, too. But this past week he's done like a one-eighty, or something. The same way he did whenever you and Logan came back from…wherever you went this summer. He's happier than I've ever seen him. Even when he was with Jean, he was so serious all the time. You loosen him up."

"That doesn't mean he likes me; Scott and I are just friends."

"I'm just tellin' you what it looks like to me," she said. "Are you sure you don't like him?"

"Well, I think he's attractive."

"Attractive? He's gorgeous. His smile, those dimples, his butt. Have you ever paid attention to his behind in that uniform?"

"I'm only seen him in his uniform once."

"Well did you notice it then?"

"A little, it was kind of dark."

"The next mission we go on that he leads us, you need to come to the hanger before we take off. It's great."

"I uh…I thought you liked Logan?"

She turned her head to look at me for a second before turning her eyes back to the road. "Is it that obvious?"

"Well, yeah, pretty much."

"I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't realize. I know that has to be kind of weird for you."

"A little."

"I'm really sorry, but I can't help it. I liked him when we first met, but after the thing at Liberty Island…he saved my life you know? And he's done it more time since then. As sick as it sounds, sometimes I want to get hurt, just so he can touch me, 'cause he's the only one who will," she said. "But I'm not tryin' to take him away from you, or anything, I promise. I'm not tryin' to do anything. I can't. He's my best friend, though. Sometimes I still need him, too."

I didn't like the conversation we were having. I wasn't particularly partial to the idea of _sharing_ my father. Not with anyone. So I changed it to the one topic that had been on my mind for months.

"What happened on Liberty Island? Did you die?"

"No, but I think I was pretty close to it. And I think I would have if Logan hadn't been there to save me when he did."

"What happened?"

"All I remember is black out. Then I woke up in his arms and he was bleedin'. Then he just collapsed on top of the statue."

"Statue?" I asked, confused.

"Yeah, the Statue of Liberty. That's where we were at. It got pretty torn up."

"_You_ were the ones who did that?"

"Yeah, why?"

"My school spent three months raising money to help have it fixed. I made more cookies for bake sales than Martha Stewart on crack. Not that they tasted any good, but that's not the point. I never put those two together."

"Yeah, that was up," she said rather sheepishly.

I shook my head. "And I washed like, five hundred cars in ninety degree heat and I had to wear shorts and a T-shirt because my parents thought it was trashy to wear my bathing suit in public."

"Sorry," she said. "But don't you think it's kind'a funny now that the whole time you were doin' that, it was for something Logan had been a part of?"

I smiled despite myself. "Yeah, that is pretty funny, actually," I admitted.

"So," she said, "what are we gonna' do about your costume situation?"

"Nothing, I'm not dressing up. I don't _have_ a costume."

"Well we're goin' to a party store, I'm sure you can find something. The Professor won't mind you puttin' it on his card."

"I don't _have_ his card."

She looked over at me and gave me a smile. "I do."

* * *

"What _is_ that supposed to be?" I asked, pointing to one of the costumes at the party shop. Rogue and I had gotten everything we needed for the party and I had given in and decided to at least _look_ at the costumes there.

"I think it's supposed to be a sexy nun costume."

"That's just wrong."

"No kiddin'," she said. "You should get one of the sexy ones. I bet Logan would have a heart attack."

I laughed. "It would almost be worth it just to see his face."

"He would probably kill all the male students for ogling you."

My smile fell. "Yeah, I don't want something that's going to make guys stare at me."

"Why not? You worked hard for your body; you should at least show it off."

"I don't like guys staring at me," I said, hoping my tone showed I was serious about ending the conversation.

I moved from the sexier costumes to the more appropriate ones. She followed me. "Because of the vision you had back in the summer?" she asked with a dropped tone.

"Yeah," I said, not really wanted to talk about it.

"Logan said those guys were gonna -" I shot her a look, cutting her off mid-sentence. I knew exactly what they were going to do: I was the one who had seen it. "They can't hurt you now, they're gone."

"You know sometimes when you have a really bad nightmare and it stays with you after you wake up, and even though you knew it was a dream, it _still_ scares you?" She nodded. "It's like that, only it wasn't a dream; it was real. And it was _my_ reality and I can't just _get over_ it like everyone seems to think I should be able to. Because even though I've woken up, I still see it, it's still there and it still scares me."

"Well I don't think punishin' yourself is right."

"How is choosing not to look like a whore _punishing_ myself?"

"It's not really, but I think you're too worried about what other people think."

"And _you_ don't care what other people think of you?"

"Not really, not anymore."

I was tempted to say; Yeah, not since you have Logan hanging around you like a lost puppy. What woman _would_ care if they had _his_ attention?"

"Yeah, well, I do," I said. "And I'm not dressing up, so whatever."

I wanted to be a better person, I wanted to be nice, but I didn't know how with Rogue. It was like I could even _pretend_ to get along with her for longer than thirty minutes. I couldn't grab onto anything about her and try to relate to it. But then I realized that if I _was_ being punished for things I had done, maybe this was my penance. Maybe the only way I could make up for what I had done was to get over myself completely and just get along with her. Why was that so hard for me to do?

"You're lookin' a little pale, are you feelin' all right?"

"No," I said truthfully. "I'm feeling a little lightheaded, actually."

"Do you need to go outside or something, to get some air?"

"Yeah, I think so," I said, my breath suddenly feeling labored.

I didn't know what was wrong, but something obviously was. Even though it had come on fast, it had hit me hard, and my chest was really starting to hurt.

"All right, go outside for a little bit. I'll go pay for everything and then I'll take you home, okay?"

I nodded my head, but didn't say anything. I turned and headed for the door. Every step closer I got to the exit, the more panicked I felt. I needed to get outside, I needed to breathe the air and see the sun. And it felt like it was taking me forever to get there. Once I finally did, my breathing didn't get any better. I felt as if I couldn't force enough air into my lungs, and my chest ached. There was a bench right outside the door and sat down on it. It didn't help. I was outside, why wasn't I feeling any better? I felt my whole body to being to shake slightly, making my breathing worse. And when I couldn't get that under control, I started crying. I really didn't know _why_ I was crying to begin with. I just couldn't help from it. It seemed to be the only thing that made sense to my mind. And I thought I was going crazy.

"Honey, are you okay?" a woman asked, coming up to me.

I shook my head, tears streaming down my hot cheeks. "I can't breathe," I said through my crying.

"Okay, you need to calm down. What's going on? Why are you crying?"

"I don't know. I was in the store and I started feeling lightheaded. Then I felt like I had to get outside right then, but when I got out here and sat down, it's like I can't breathe or something. And I started shaking then I started crying," I said between my pathetic gasps for air. My lungs simply wouldn't fill up.

"It sounds like you're having a panic attack. You just need to try to take in a few deep breaths and hold them, okay?" she said, sitting down on the bench beside me. I nodded. "Okay, now breathe in deep through your nose, hold it for a couple of seconds and then let it out."

I did as she said a few times before shaking my head. "It's not working. I can't force it into my lungs"

"Are you here by yourself?"

"No, I'm here with a friend," I said just as Rogue was coming out of the store.

"Jayden, what's wrong?" she asked.

"I think she's having an anxiety attack. She just needs to calm down and catch her breath," the woman told her.

"I'm callin' Logan," she said, searching through her purse for her cell phone.

"Okay Jayden, is that your name?" the stranger asked as my vision started to go dark. I nodded silently. "Well my name is Linda. Now can you tell me if you've ever had one of these before?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding.

"When?"

I tried to think. "I don't know, a few months ago."

"Do you remember what brought it on?" I nodded again, too out of breath for a real answer. "Okay honey, can you tell me what it was?"

"I thought someone I knew had died."

When I had thought Logan was dead, I had passed out while having a panic attack. But I had thought he was _dead_, there was a reason to panic. I didn't have a reason for this, and _that's_ why I thought I was going crazy; I was crying in public, in front of a stranger, all for no reason.

"Do you know what happened this time?" she asked.

"Nothing, I was fine. Then I started feeling lightheaded and she said I looked pale," I said, pointing to Rogue, who had just hung up her phone. "That was it."

"Logan's on his way, he'll be here in a little bit," Marie said, resting a gloved hand on my shoulder.

"Who's Logan?" Linda asked, sounding both like she was talking to a child and trying to keep me conscious.

"My daddy," I said, my vision darkening further.

"Okay, so your dad's coming here to get you. Do you get along with him?" I nodded, again unable to breathe well enough for a proper answer. "Okay, good. Now has he seen you have one of these before?"

"Not this bad," I said.

She looked up at Rogue. "How long will it take him to get here?"

Marie shrugged. "Maybe fifteen minutes, at the most."

It only took him ten. When in reality it should have taken him thirty. As he hurried through the parking lot towards me, I vaguely wondered how fast he would have had to be going in order to get there that quickly. But I didn't ask him that. Instead I just stood and fell into his arms. He gave me a pill that Hank had sent with him and held me as it took effect, calming me down.

"Shh baby, I got you," he whispered as my cries ebbed away, leaving me feeling tired and drained. "Are you ready to go home?" I nodded into his chest. "Okay."

I pulled away from him long enough to thank Linda for trying to help me.

"Don't worry about it," she said. "But maybe you should think about talking to a doctor about that. You might be able to get something to keep you from having them."

I nodded. "I will. Thank you."

"Everything will be fine," she said to me. "I'll be fine."

I never saw that woman again.

Logan walked me to his car and helped me get in. He spoke to Marie for a few minutes and then he got in the car to drive me home. The pill Hank had sent to me was the same as he always gave me when I had a panic attack, or whatever it was that they were, and it was starting to make me sleepy, like they always did. I leaned my head against the car window and closed my eyes, unable to keep them open any longer as we started driving. I felt him turn the heat and let out a sigh as the car quickly began to warm up. I was starting to feel better.

"Thank you for coming to get me," I mumbled to him.

I felt him pick up my hand and kiss it. "I'm always gonna come get you, baby," he said, giving my hand another kiss before lowering it back down. But he didn't let go of it. He laced his fingers through mine and held it tight as I drifted off to sleep, knowing I was safe again.

I was asleep when we got to the school. Logan picked me up and carried me up the stairs. He was almost to my room when I woke up. I was too tired to walk on my own, so I didn't say anything. I just snuggled up closer to him and he gave me a kiss on my forehead.

"Summers, open her door for me," Logan said.

I cracked an eye enough to peek Scott in the hallway coming from his room. "Is she okay?" he asked walking to my room, concern in his voice.

"She had a panic attack."

"While she was with Rogue?"

"Yeah," Logan said, pushing through the door and carrying me into my room. He placed my gently on my bed and took off my shoes. I would have tried to help, but I couldn't even keep my eyelids open. Then he took of my leather jacket. "Can you sleep in your jeans?" he asked, knowing I was somewhat awake.

"Yeah," I mumbled out.

"Okay," he said, then pulled my blankets up around me and tucked me in. He gave me another kiss on my forehead. "You want me to stay in here with you?" he asked, his mouth still pressed to my forehead.

"No, I'm okay."

"You sure?"

I nodded my head slowly, drowsily. "Yeah."

"All right, get some sleep baby. I'll be downstairs if you need me."

He ran a hand down my cheek and kissed the other one before leaving. I opened my eyes just enough to see him walk out. But Scott stood in my doorway for a moment, just watching me, and I felt my pulse race. He stood there for about half a minute before pulling my door almost closed.

"Sleep tight Jayden," he whispered. And then he closed the door.

I was left there in my tired and drug sedated mind to wonder _why_ he had done that.


	15. Unhappy Halloween

* * *

After four hours of sleep, I woke groggily to the sound of a knock on my door.

"Come in," I called out, trying to wake up enough to sit.

The door opened and I saw Hank standing in the doorway. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like crap, only worse," I said, my voice sounding hoarse.

"Are you going to be well enough to attend the party downstairs?" he asked, stepping into my room.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'm going to go anyway."

"May I ask why?"

"I've had a rough day; I don't feel like going to a party."

"Are you quite sure? I was hoping you would go as my date," he said with a warm smile.

"I don't have a costume," I said lamely.

"Well, we could go as Beauty and the Beast."

"Which would you be?" I asked with a smile.

"Beauty, of course," he said jokingly.

I laughed and shook my head. "I don't know."

"Scott's down there."

I let out a sigh. "I don't even want to think about that right now. I have _so_ much to deal with, and I just really don't even want to deal with that."

He stepped further into my room, walking closer to me. "May I sit on your bed?" he asked.

I laughed. "You don't have to ask me for permission for everything, Hank. You can sit on my bed if you want. It's a little messy, but if you don't mind, neither do I."

"It's best to always make sure," he said, sitting near the foot of my bed and taking up nearly half its length. He took my hand in his and held it as he looked into my eyes. And I wished he wouldn't. They weren't my eyes; they belonged to a stranger. "What is it about Scott that you would rather not deal with right now?"

"The fact that he confuses the heck out of me."

"How so?"

"One minute it's like he's flirting with me, or something, then the next he's saying that I'm just a really good friend and treating me like one of the guys. It's _so_ confusing and I just want it to be over with."

"I thought you said you were in love with him?"

"Well, I thought I was…I mean, I think I am still, but…you can get over love, can't you? People can fall out of love, right?"

"I think sometimes people give up when they grow weary, but I don't believe we can ever stop loving someone if we were truly in love with them in the first place."

"Really?" He nodded. "I thought my parents were in love, but they're getting a divorce."

"Perhaps they gave up. But just because they did doesn't mean that you have to."

I let out a sigh and shook my head. "But it hurts, you know? There's like, a physical pain I feel at the thought of him never feeling the same as me. I just wish I could forget about ever loving him."

"Ah yes, but trying to forget someone you love is like trying to remember someone you never met."

I looked down at his hand holding mine and decided I liked the way it looked. My small and feminine hands with their black tattoos complimented his large, masculine blue hands. And I felt the impossible softness coming from them. From the hands that could break a man's neck with one swipe. I saw them together and decided it was right. Whatever it was that controlled the universe, if there was something, knew what they were doing when they gave me Hank.

He was like a light in the dark for me. He knew how to talk me down when I was upset and how to cheer me up when I was in a bad mood. He always knew exactly what to say no matter what situation I was in. He was one of my best friends and whoever made sure I was with him knew exactly what they were doing. And I thanked him for that.

I moved so that I could rest my head against Hank's shoulder and he wrapped his free arm around me. I felt his soft fur rub against the exposed skin on my arms and it tickled and felt oddly comforting at the same time. Like a warm blanket wrapped around my arms.

"Why does it have to hurt?" I asked.

"I don't know sweetheart, but I wish I could keep you from ever feeling pain."

I felt tears roll from my eyes and I squeezed them closed tightly, trying to stop them. "Why do things have to be so complicated?" I let out a shaky breath. "I just want things to go back to how they were. To before I knew my parents were getting a divorce, to before I knew Logan was in love with Rogue, to before I was in love with Scott. I just want it to go back."

"But wouldn't that be going back to the person you used to be? To the Jayden that you once told me you sent back to California because she was holding you back?"

"I guess."

"Sometimes we have to go through the pain of things to simply know we can. To know that we're strong enough. You are a very strong person Jayden, whether you want to believe it or not, and I believe that in time you'll see that all of this that hurts now only served to make you even stronger. You _can_ make it through this, and I am so looking forward to watching you grow as you do. You amaze me, my dear, simply amaze me. And do you know why?"

I shook my head against his shoulder.

"Because you have so much incredible potential, and yet you fail to see it the way everyone else does. You light up a room just by walking into it. You're so intelligent and make me so happy to see you thriving to learn more. You possess all of your father's _good_ traits; his loyalty, his passion, his strength. I watch you face each day, never knowing what may happen, with a smile. And when you smile, it's absolutely magical. One day a very special man will want to marry you and if that man is Scott Summers, then I would be very happy for you. But if it's not, it won't be the end of the world. Because you deserve love and the more you go through now, the sweeter it will be when you find the man of your dreams. And I will be incredibly happy for you that day as well."

I lifted my head and kissed his cheek softly. "Thank you, Hank. You have no idea how much I needed to hear that today."

He turned his head towards me and gave me a sweet, warm smile. "Sometimes," he said in a low voice, looking into my eyes and wiping away the tears from my cheeks, "we need to be reminded of how good we are. It's only human nature to think we're failing if we're not constantly praised."

I smiled at him. "I think you're the only person I know who can see the good through all my faults."

"We all have faults, as that's only human nature as well. But you sweetheart, you don't have to look that hard to find the good," he said. He placed a kiss on my forehead. "Because it shines through you."

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tightly. I felt him hug me back. "I love you, Hank."

"I love you, too. And everything will be fine, I promise, everything will be fine in time." He held me for a few minutes before I felt him pull back some. I looked up at him and saw his familiar, comforting warm smile on his mouth. "Now, would you care to be my date to the dance tonight, or are you going to make an old man go by himself?"

I smiled back at him. "Okay, first of all, you're not old," I said. "And second…I guess I could go. It wouldn't hurt, even if I would rather stay here and sulk."

"I've told you before; you're far too beautiful to sulk."

"And you're far too nice to be spending your time trying to cheer _me_ up."

"Ah, but there is nothing I would rather do with my time then spend it with you and to see you happy."

My smiled widened. "Well then, mission accomplished. I'm ready to face the public and I promise to _try_ to not be grouchy."

"That's what you do best."

I cocked my head to the side. "What? Be grouchy?"

"No," he said, pushing a lock of hair from my face. "_Trying_."

In that moment I saw something in Hank's eyes that I had never noticed before. Something that was almost sad. And I realized that there was a reason why he always knew what he was talking about.

"Have you ever been in love with anyone before?"

"Yes, years ago with a girl I went to school with."

"What happened?"

"She went away for a few years to study abroad. When she returned, I was prepared to propose to her."

"She didn't come back?"

"No, she did. But when she came back, I looked the way I do now."

"So?"

"So I frightened her. She left and I haven't seen or spoken to her since then."

I shook my head in disbelief. "I don't understand. Why does it matter if you didn't look the same? You're _Hank_; you're a fantastic person, any woman would be _lucky_ to have you."

"As much as I appreciate that, it's not completely true. I wasn't the same man she claimed to have fallen love with. I had changed on the inside as well as out, and that scared her. She wanted a different like, an easier one. And I can't say as I blame her very much. She was a scientist as well and thought that together we could be a great husband and wife team. But when she saw me, I didn't quite fit into her plans," he said with a sad smile. "But I kept moving on. And I think about her every once in a while."

"She didn't deserve you."

He gave me another smile. "She deserved to be _happy_, which, from what I've heard, she is. She's living in France with her husband and four children."

"Do you wish things had worked out differently?"

"You mean do I wish I had never met her?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"Even though she broke your heart?"

"Yes, even though she broke my heart," he said. "You see, the thing about life is that eventually we _all_ get hurt. We all get our hearts broken at least once, maybe more. But I would never trade all of my moments spent in love with her in order to not feel the pain of losing her. We must remember the good, accept the bad, and keep moving forward."

I nodded my head, acknowledging his words as I let them sink in. "Well, Mr. McCoy, would you be so kind as to attend the school's Halloween dance with me?" I asked, smiling at him.

He gave me a bright smile back, showing off his long, fang-like canine teeth that mind now resembled. "Absolutely Miss Rivers, there's no one else I would rather go with."

I hopped up from my bed and went to my closet. "Are you dressing up?" I asked, looking through my clothes.

"Some what, yes."

"As what?"

"I'm afraid that is a surprise."

I looked at him from over my shoulder. "You can't even tell me? I'm your date."

"You'll just have to wait and see, like everyone else."

I let out a sigh and looked back to my closet. "Okay, I guess I'll try to dig something up that sort of resembles a costume," I said.

I heard him stand from my bed and walk up behind me. He gave me a kiss on top of my head and gave my shoulder a light, comforting squeeze. "I'll see you in an hour," he said.

"All right, I'll meet you down there when I get ready," I said. After he left, I stood with my hands on my hips and looked into my closet thoughtfully. "Man, I've got my work cut out for me."

* * *

I walked up behind Hank and tapped on his shoulder. When he turned around I smiled at his costume.

"You're the Cookie Monster," I said, noting his T-shirt that said 'Me Want Cookies'.

"And you are simply breath taking, my dear. Let me guess, a silent movie star?"

My smile widened. "Yeah, you got it."

I had almost given up on attempting finding something to wear as a costume when I pulled out the golden beige, floor length halter dress that I had worn for my friend Karen's wedding the week before. Then I pulled back my hair into a ninety twenties style and put on some dark red lipstick. There wasn't much I could do about my eyes or teeth, but I tried to cover up my 'tattoos' as much as possible with jewelry and makeup. When I was done, I was pretty happy with how it all turned out, considering I had just pulled it out of my closest and had less than an hour to put it all together. When I was done, I had walked downstairs to meet Hank at the bottom of the stairwell.

"Well, I must say that my costume looks rather bland compared to yours," he said. "But you look absolutely marvelous."

"Thank you," I said, blushing slightly. He offered me his hand and helped me off the last step. "Let's go see what kind of food this shindig has; I'm starving."

He laughed and offered me his arm. "A woman after my own heart."

I linked my arm through his and together we walked to the school's ballroom. The moment we entered, I automatically felt better. When I had first moved to the school, I had gone from being an only child living in a house with just my parents, to living in a mansion with nearly two hundred people, the majority being loud teenagers, and I didn't know how to adjust. Scott told me that it would take me a while, but eventually I would get used to it. Then my sense started to become more sensitive and my hearing became stronger. I was positive that no matter how long I was there, I would never get used to it. But I had. Not only had I gotten used to it, but I found it comforting. When I heard the sound of kids, I knew that they were okay. In a world where we as mutants were feared, they had a haven. A home to call their own, a place to feel safe. And as long as I could hear them, then I knew I was safe, too. That I had found a place to stop running. The noise got to me still sometimes, but I didn't mind. Because I had realized that noise is the sound of life. It's the silence that drives us mad.

"Wow Jayden," Rogue said as we walked up to her. "You look _gorgeous_!"

I smiled at her, trying to make it as real as possible. "Thank you," I said.

She was standing with Logan at a table that was holding food trays, where he was picking through some of the sweets. When Rogue said my name, he turned around. I watched his face as he took in my outfit and saw his eyebrow rise involuntarily. My smile suddenly became real.

"What're you supposed to be?" he asked.

"I'm a silent movie actress."

"Shouldn't you be _silent_ then?" he said with a smirk.

Rogue, who was dressed as someone from the sixties, smacked him on the arm. "Logan, stop bein' mean. Don't you think she looks beautiful like that?"

"I ain't ever thought she _wasn't _beautiful," he said, giving me a wink.

"Thanks, furry-face," I said. "What are you supposed to be?"

"A grumpy old man."

"Well that's a stretch for you," I said sarcastically.

He gave me another smirk. "Tell me about it, this music's givin' me a headache."

"Yeah, I don't even know what song this is," Rogue said.

"I don't either, but I agree with the headache thing," I said. "What kind of food do we have?"

Logan made a face. "Some weird hotdog things."

"They're actually called pigs in a blanket," Hank corrected.

"Whatever. They're not too bad; you just gotta eat about twenty of 'em to feel like you're eatin' anything at all."

"But they got pretzels stickin' out like legs that made them look like little spiders," Rogue said. "They're cute."

"Yeah, I'm not too keen on eating something that looks like a spider."

"Why? Are you scared of them, too?" Logan asked, his smirk still on his face.

"Have I mentioned that you're a jackass?"

"Not today."

"Well then, you're a jackass."

"But you still love me."

"Doesn't change the fact that you're still a jerk," I said, but smiled at him all the same.

The night went well. Hank and I danced a few times, but mostly I stood around the food table with Logan and Rogue, pigging out on snack food and sweets. After about three hours I started feeling that weird panicky feeling again where I needed to be outside. So I left the ballroom and went out onto the balcony connected to it. I walked to the railing and took a few deep breaths with my eyes closed, feeling myself relax some.

I looked down off the balcony and saw some of the flowers from the school's garden. Although the garden proper was in the back of the house, some of the flowers had grown so large that they begin to spill out and wrap around the side of the building. I had never been any good with plants. I had had a small vine plan when I was younger that had died within three months of my parents buying it for me. And because of that, I was extremely impressed with the Professor and Storm for being able to keep a full garden alive.

I took in a few more deep breaths as I looked up at the sky. The moon was full, adding to the errieness of the Halloween night. I wondered how many true freaks were out, rooming the streets that night. We were the mutants, but there were people out there with no powers like us that were more insane than most mutants. There were truly some sick people in the world and yet we were the ones persecuted. We were the ones forced into hiding while the real monsters were left to wander the streets. Monsters like the Blind Man Murderer.

"Enjoying the night air?"

I looked over my shoulder and saw Scott standing a few feet behind me. "I was starting to have panic attack, so I came out here to get some air."

"Aren't you cold?" he asked, walking over and standing beside me.

"Not really," I said, looking over his outfit. He was wearing a tuxedo and filling it out pretty nicely. "Um…who are you supposed to be?"

He gave me a wicked grin. "Bond," he said. "James Bond."

I smiled. "Very nice Mr. Bond."

"And you are…a ninety twenties beauty queen?"

"A move star, actually."

"Well, everything's in shades of red, but you look very lovely."

I felt my cheeks blush. "I don't think anyone's called me 'lovely' in quite a long time, thank you," I said, turning around so that I was facing him and my back was up against the rail.

"You're welcome," he said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Is that dress new?"

"Yeah, it's my wedding dress."

"Your wedding dress? I didn't know you got married," he joked. "Who's the lucky man? That Tony guy?"

My smile faltered and I shook my head. "No, not Tony."

"Why not?"

I shrugged. "He's not really my type, I don't think."

"What is your type?"

I wanted to say 'You'. But I didn't. "I'm not sure," I said instead, giving him a short, forced smile.

"Well, you have time to figure it out."

I didn't reply because I didn't trust myself to speak anymore on the matter without betraying myself and blurting out that I was in love with him. So I kept quiet until I felt I could speak safely again. "So if I'm out here to keep from having a panic attack, why are _you_ out here?"

He gave me a sheepish smile. "Truthfully?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"I saw you come out here and I really needed a bit of a break."

"So you were watching me and then decided to _follow_ me?"

He smiled and let a small laugh escape. "Yeah, kind of."

"Should I be worried that you're stalking me?" I asked with a coy smile.

He laughed again. "No, I don't think I'm any real threat."

"Good, because I wanted to see if you would go on a walk with me?" I asked. "I mean, if you can sneak away from your chaperoning duties for a while?"

"Yeah, I think they can cover for me."

"Good," I said and walked towards the stairs that wound down off the balcony and led to the side yard of the school.

Scott followed beside me. "Are you sure you're not cold? You can have my jacket if you need it."

I thought about it for a moment and decided that I liked the idea of wearing his jacket. "Yeah, okay, if you don't mind."

He slipped out of it quickly and helped me to put it on. I inhaled the scent of his cologne but decided to keep my comments of how much I loved it to myself. "So," I said, "who's your Bond girl for tonight?"

"I don't have one," he said, walking along side me with his hands shoved in his pockets.

"Why not?"

"Because the only women here old enough to be a Bond girl are taken: Rogue's with Logan, Ororo's with the Professor and then Hank stole you. Bringing anyone else as a date would have been considered a felony."

I laughed. "True, but you know, Hank didn't _steal_ me; he asked me to be his date an hour before the party started. You had plenty of time to ask me."

I saw a smile break out across his lips from the corner of my eye. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But I think he was jealous that you were my date to the last dance."

Scott had been my 'date' to the end of the school year dance back in May. It was nice and we had gotten to dance together a few times. I had been in love with him then too, but I hadn't been willing to admit it to myself, or anyone else, that what I felt was more than just a crush. But I had enjoyed it all the same.

"Oh yeah, I'm just the object of envy and jealousy all around," I joked sarcastically.

He laughed and I felt my pulse race at the sound of it. "I'm glad to see you have so much confidence in yourself," he said.

I smiled. "Some people do think I'm quite cocky."

"You must get that from your father."

We kept walking until we were in the middle of the garden where there was a small, two person swing. The bottoms and sides were covered in vines and the old wooden seats looked worn but sturdy. I stopped and sat down on one of them. Scott moved behind me and gave me a soft push, swinging me. I held onto the ropes on the sides of the swing and smiled as he pushed me a few more times. My heart jumped every time his hands came in contact with my back. Then he sat in the seat next to mine.

I looked over at him, the gorgeous man to my right, and I wanted so badly to reach out and touch him. To make him understand how I felt about him. But I couldn't.

I saw a smile break out on his face before he started laughing. "What?" I asked.

He shook his head. "You're just cracking me up in your high heels and swinging."

"I've been wearing high heels since I was five; they're not problem," I said with a smile. "Besides, you're wearing a tuxedo and swinging."

"Not all of it; you're wearing my jacket."

"You offered it to me."

He smiled again, showing his dimples. "I know."

"I haven't been on a swing in like, ten years," I said, continuing to swing back and forth slowly. "Even without high heels."

"On my first date with Jean, we ended up at a park at three in the morning on the swings, just talking. We came walking in at about eight o'clock in the morning. Our curfew was supposed to have been eleven, but Xavier didn't say a word when we came home. He just let us go to bed and sleep in."

"The Professor's a good man."

He nodded. "Yes he is."

"I can't imagine doing what he does. He gives so much of himself."

"I think he gets a lot back. He never had kids of his own, but now he has about five hundred living all over the world."

"Do you ever want kids?"

"I did with Jean."

"I think you would make a really great father."

He gave me a small, sad smile. "Well, I guess we'll never know."

"Do you think you could never be happy with someone else?"

He let out a deep breath and didn't say anything for a moment. "I don't know. Truthfully, I don't want to be. I feel like it would be betraying Jean if I was."

"You don't think she would want you to be happy?"

"I am happy…I think."

"You _think_?"

"I woke up every morning all by myself, and I get up. I take a shower. I shave. I eat. I keep going on because I _have_ to. But like you said; I think she would want me to be happy. And I'm trying. I'm doing things I used to do that I loved. I'm not pouring myself into my work like I was in the beginning and…I have you." I couldn't help the look on my face. But he didn't look at me, he just kept going on. "Everyone was affected by Jean's death. She was their friend or teacher, and Xavier raised us all together just like we were his own kids. I can't talk to them about her, but I can talk to you."

"Well I'm here anytime you want," I said.

He hooked his fingers in mine and pulled my hand to his, holding it as he threaded his fingers through mine. I stared at him as I felt my heart race. I could hear it pounding in my ears and struggled to breathe as he lifted my hand and gave it a soft, sweet kiss.

"You have no idea what that means to me," he said quiet and seriously, lowering my hand but still holding it tightly.

"I think I do," I managed to choke out. "Because I know how much it means to me to be able to talk to you."

And that was it. We didn't say anything else; we just sat as he continued to hold my hand and looked up at the night sky, watching the stars and the full moon. I couldn't imagine anything feeling more right or perfect, and I held onto his hand, hoping that I could hold onto that memory just as tightly. I never wanted to forget that moment.

* * *

After a thirty minute break, Scott and I decided to go back in. I gave him his jacket and he walked me back to the balcony.

"Are you going to go back to the party?" he asked as we reached the top of the stairs.

The music, which had been some blaring rock song, changed and became much slower and a lot less headache inducing. After the first few notes I realized it was the song 'I'll Be' by Edwin McCain.

"No, I think I'm actually going to go to bed."

He nodded his head. "How about one dance with me before you call it a night?"

I felt a small blush creep across my cheeks as I smiled slightly. "Okay."

He held out his hand and I took it. I was used to dancing with Hank and automatic put on hand on his shoulder and tucked the other one in close to his chest, then I lay my head on his shoulder.

I didn't quite understand how the same man was capable of eliciting so many different emotions from me. He made me feel comfortable, yet he gave me butterflies every time I saw him. His touch made me blush, gave me chills, and made my knees weak. He made me scared to get close to him and afraid to push him away. He was someone I felt I could tell anything to, except for the one thing that mattered; that I was in love with him. That I wanted to hold him and kiss him and tell him that he could be happy with me. I wanted to pour my heart and soul out to him, but when he was around, I choked on my words. He terrified me more than anyone or anything and there was nothing I wanted more.

"I was worried you weren't going to come tonight," he said.

"Why?"

"After waking up this morning with a shock and then having a panic attack this afternoon, I just thought you might want to skip all of this."

"I wanted to. But Hank talked me out of it."

"I'm glad he did."

"Yeah," I said. "Me too."

"Have you had fun tonight?"

"Yeah, I have."

"Good."

"How about you; have you had a good night?"

He let out a deep breath and I felt his chest rise and fall where our hands were pressed to it. "It's been great," he said, causing my heart to flutter.

I raised my head, our cheeks brushing one another, and I felt the sand paper feel of his skin against mine. I wanted him to be mine so strongly that I suddenly felt overwhelmed by everything I was feeling all at once. He was holding me, I got to be in his arms, but I knew it was only for the dance. Once the song was over, he would let me go and I would have to go to my room by myself. He would go to sleep with his memories of Jean, and I would go to sleep crying because of the pain I felt. The physical ache in my heart that only he could soothe. I wanted so badly to tell him how I felt, but I couldn't. Because if he didn't see me the way Logan claimed he did, then I couldn't risk losing him as a friend. I wasn't willing to put what I had with him, what was real, on the line for some young girl fantasy.

It took everything I had in me not to kiss him right then. Our faces were touching, I could hear his rhythmic breathing and could feel his chest rise and fall with every breath he took. My own breathing was quite as strong as his and I could hear my own heart pounding wildly in my chest. I felt tears burning in my eyes and fought to keep them from falling. I knew I would have to let him go, he wasn't mine, and tried my best to enjoy our dance together.

I closed my eyes tight and inhaled the smell of his cologne. There was a spot on his neck where it was the strongest, right under his ear, and I loved the way it smelled. I took in a couple of deep breaths, keeping my tears at bay and then opened my eyes again. But when I opened them, I saw a flash of something run across my mind. It was an image of Scott and Jean dancing on their wedding day. He was wearing the same tuxedo as he was that night and they looked like the absolute picture of pure happiness. The perfect way they fit together, the way they complimented each other, the sense of pure bliss I got from them was enough to push me over the edge, and I felt hot tears fall from my eyes. And I held onto him tighter, wanting him to see that it was _me_ in his arms. That Jean was dead, but _I_ was there, _I_ wanted him, and I was _alive_.

I heard him singing along to the song quietly as another tear raced down my cheek. "_I'll be your crying shoulder and I'll be love suicide. I'll be the greatest fan of your life._"

The music played in the background as he followed along with the words and I realized that that had been the song to their first dance at his and Jean's wedding. And still I held him tighter. But the song was coming to an end and another tear fell from my eye. I didn't want the song to end. Because while the song was playing, while we were dancing, he was mine.

But it did end. The song went off, replaced by one a little faster and louder. And I didn't want to move, but I did. I pulled away, trying to dry the trail left by my tears before he could see them. I wasn't fast enough.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I forced the best smile I could and hoped it looked sincere. "Yeah, I'm just tired," I lied.

"I'm sure you are, you've had a pretty rough day."

I nodded, still trying to smile through my tears. "Yeah, so I think I'm going to go to bed now," I said. "Thank you for the dance. Goodnight."

He leaned in and gave my cheek a kiss and I fought to stay standing and keep more tears from falling. "It was my pleasure," he said. "Goodnight Jayden."

I gave him another forced smile as I pulled away from him. Then I turned and went back into the ballroom without another glance back at him. As I walked through the crowd and saw Storm glaring at me. I assumed she knew where I had been, she had a clear view of the balcony, and I expected another bolt of lightening to fall from the sky and strike me again. And I only half cared when it didn't. Part of me would have welcomed the physical pain as a diversion to what torment I was going through on the inside.

I pushed through the crowds of teenagers as politely as I could on my hurry to get to my room, where I could cry without anyone seeing me. Where I could be left alone with my heartache.

Once I made it out of the ballroom, I started for the stairs. I rushed up them as quickly as I could, but when I was nearly to the top, the heel of one of my shoes broke. I took them both off and felt the tears start again as I walked down the hall to my room. I made it to the teacher's wing before I heard someone behind me. I turned and saw Logan standing in the hall about ten feet away from me. He didn't say anything, but he knew what was wrong.

I pressed my back to the wall and slid down it. I sat on the floor, pulled my knees up to my chest, and cried. He came and sat down by me, pulled me to his side and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He didn't say anything, not a single word of comfort or how badly he was going to hurt Scott. He was just there. He held me and let me cry. Maybe he wanted me to hurt so that I might think Scott wasn't worth it, or maybe he just didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to make that kind of pain go away, or he would have done it for himself.

We sat in the hall as I heard the mansion's clock strike midnight. I had made it through October alive, but there was part of my heart that I prayed for death. Because nothing could possibly hurt as much as I did that night.


	16. Uninvited

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything except a very nifty stuffed Wolverine doll that I won out of one of those claw machine thingys. I'm pretty cool like that. Please enjoy!

* * *

The days went by, I went back to school, and things seemed to be going back to normal. Everyone at school noticed the changes in me, but didn't seem to think much of it. According to Bashar, they all knew I was weird; they were just waiting for me to show it. Apparently they all thought I had had my teeth filed into points, dyed my hair black on my own and that my eyes looked the way they did from contacts. They thought that I was gothic, or something, and that there was nothing really wrong with me; I was just odd. I also kept finding new 'tattoos', about three or four a day, and the ones that were on my wrists and hands were the only ones visible, since the weather was cold and I was bundled up every day, and everyone thought they were _real_ tattoos. And I didn't argue with any of them.

Things seemed to be getting better. I was less paranoid, my visions and nightmares were more in control and less frequent. I was really starting to get a handle on my math class and was bringing my grade up every week. Training was tough, like always, but since the rest of my schedule was becoming easier and I was actually getting some sleep at night, it wasn't half as hard as it was the two months before when I had first started school. And since it was lightening up, I could relax and everything else seemed to be so much easier.

It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving and Logan had gone on a mission with Storm and Bobby while I was left wandering around the school by myself. I was walking down the first floor hall, the legs of my sweatpants too long, causing my bare feet to glide over the polished wood floor as the hem of the pants curled under my heel. The mansion was fairly quiet. Most of the students had gone home for the week to spend Thanksgiving with their families. The other students were spread out around the house, most outside, and just enjoying the start of their week off. I was just trying to keep myself occupied until Logan got home. Which basically involved me walking around the school in my pajamas like a lost child.

I walked down the hall where all the classrooms were. Even though I knew they were empty, I couldn't help from looking into them. But when I reached one of the last ones towards the end of the hall, I saw someone in there.

"Hey," I said, pushing the door open. "Aren't you supposed to have the week off?"

Scott looked up at me from where he was sitting at his desk and smiled. "Supposed to, yeah."

"So _why_ are you working?" I asked, walking closer to him. I pulled one of the chairs from the class section and pulled it up to his desk. "And on a Sunday, no less."

"There's a good possibility it's because I have no life," he said with a bit of a laugh.

"Hey, I don't have a life either, but I still don't do homework when I'm not meant to. I usually like, eat ice cream and watch TV."

"And apparently watch me be pathetic."

"Oh, is there a time when you're not?" I asked with the most serious face I could manage.

He wadded up a piece of paper from his desk and threw it at me. "Well, there's obviously _something_ you find interesting about me, or you wouldn't be here," he said, a smile on his face. "So what is it about me that you find so terribly irresistible?"

"I'm sorry, but _when_ did I say you were irresistible?"

"You're here aren't you?" he asked, the smile still splayed out on his beautiful face.

"You are aware that I'm here because Logan's gone and there's no ice cream for me to eat while watching TV? Plus the fact that there's nothing _on_ TV," I said. "It was either talk to you or paint my toenails."

"And you chose _me_ over getting high on fingernail paint fumes? I'm touched," he said in a mockingly sincere voice.

"Your optimism is disgusting," I joked.

"Funny, most people find it contagious." I stared at him for a long moment. "What is it?" he finally asked.

"You look a lot younger when you smile," I said.

"Are you saying I look old when I don't?"

"Oh yeah, that's exactly what I was saying." I laughed and rolled my eyes.

"Well I _am_ getting old."

"You're thirty-six."

"I'm thirty-_five_, thank you," he corrected.

I laughed again and held up my hands defensively. "I'm sorry, thirty-five. I didn't realize you were so touchy about it."

"I am. Do you realize that it five years I'm going to be forty?"

"That's generally how it goes. You'll be forty, I'll be twenty-four."

He shook his head. "I feel like I should still be twenty-four." He put down the pencil that was in his hand. He looked at me. "Where do you want to be in five years?"

"Uh," I said, taken aback by the question. I wasn't expecting it. "Well…I don't really know."

"Do you want to be married and have kids or anything?"

"No kids. The world is far too screwed up to bring someone into it."

"What about getting married?"

"If the right man comes along, yeah, I might. If someone sweeps me off my feet by them."

"Would you _let_ someone sweet you off your feet?"

I cocked my eyebrow at him as I pulled my feet up into the chair. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You're a little guarded."

"Do I have my guards up now?"

"Am I trying to sweep you off your feet?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, are?"

He gave me a slight smile. "If I was, would it be working?"

I smiled back at him. "Are you going to answer every question with another question?"

"You started it."

"It's great to see that maturity comes with age," I said, rolling my eyes again. Our conversation fell silent for a moment as I stared out the bay window in his classroom. "You know," I said seriously, "I really am trying to be less guarded. It's just…it's hard."

"I know," he said, giving me a small smile. "You're doing a good job."

"It doesn't feel like it sometimes."

"Some day you'll find a man that's worth letting your guard down for."

"I hope so," I said, knowing I had already found that man.

"So what are your plans for this afternoon?" he asked, trying to change to subject to something lighter.

"I don't know. Probably just wander around for a few hours. Logan said they were supposed to be home some time today," I said, standing from my chair. "How about you?"

"Probably the same. I might work on my class schedule and get the lessons for next week out of the way."

I laughed as I looked around his classroom. "You really are pathetic," I joked.

I stuck my hands in the pocket of my hoodie as I studied the pictures on his walls. They were all mostly classic muscle cars from the fifties and sixties. I had never known too much about cars, didn't care too much to learn either, but I loved the look of the older cars. I thought they had a certain art aspect to them that modern cars lacked. I kept walking around the room, looking at the different pictures, until I stopped at the one behind his desk that was secluded from the rest of the photos. It looked like a water garden in India. There were vines and flowers climbing up and growing on the wooden beams that served as the only ceiling and I wouldn't have even called it that. There was a path of water that ran down the middle of the floor, turned into a waterfall about three feet high, and spilled into a pool. The pool had lily pads and lotus blossoms growing from the water, all surrounding an old concrete of whom, I assumed, to be Buddha. The lighting made it look like it was taken just as the sun was setting, bringing out all of the colors in the picture. I had never seen anything like it before but I loved it.

"Is this Heaven?" I asked.

"Uh…what?" he asked, confused. He spun around in his chair to look at the picture. "I…I don't know. Do you want it to be?"

I stared at it harder for a few moments longer. "Yeah, I think so."

"I didn't think you believed in Heaven?" he said, standing and walking to me. He stood by my side and looked at the picture with me.

I shrugged. "I don't know if I do or not. But if there is one, I want it to look like that."

He put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side, and I heard my breathing hitch. "Can we share a Heaven, then? I think I would like to live there, too."

I placed my head on his shoulder and reached up my hand to touch the one he had on my shoulder. "Yeah," I said. "We can share."

I felt his head rest on mine as his thumb ran up and down the side of my hand. "Good," he said.

"Where did this picture come from?"

"The Professor took it when he was in India years ago. I always like it so Jean had it blown up and framed for my birthday a few years back," he said. "She would open up her mind and let me see the colors through her eyes."

"It's beautiful."

"Yeah, I always thought so."

"Then why do you have it in the corner? You can barely see it."

"After Jean died, I couldn't stand to look at it anymore, so I needed to move it where I wouldn't have to."

"But you're looking at it now."

"Yeah, this is the first time I've looked at it in over a year."

I raised my head, pushing his up along with it. I looked at him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you look at it. I didn't know."

He gave me another one of his smiles. "I'm glad you did. I needed to look at it. And now that you think it's Heaven, it's not so hard. If it is, maybe Jean's there."

"Hank told me once that love knows how to wait. Maybe she's there waiting for you."

He nodded his head slowly. "I think you're right," he said, giving my temple a small kiss. "But I think I'll stay here for a while."

"Good," I said. "I like you here."

He pressed his forehead to the side of mine and nodded. "I do, too."

I liked being there with him, being so close, touching so much of him and sharing the same idea of Heaven. And I prayed that if there was a Heaven, when I died I could go and be with Scott. Maybe things would be less complicated there.

"Uh, Jayden," I heard Rogue's voice say from behind me. I turned around and saw her standing in the doorway of Scott's classroom with a hint of a smile on her face. "You have a visitor."

"A visitor?" I asked, confused as I broke my contact with Scott. "Who is it?"

"I don't know, the Professor didn't say, he just asked me to come tell you that someone's here to see you and they're in his office."

I looked up at Scott and he nodded at me. I didn't like the idea of having a visitor. I was sure it was either my mom or my dad, or possibly both of them, and I just couldn't handle that. Things were finally starting to get better, if they wanted to see me, it meant having a talk with me, which would only stress me out. I hadn't completely gotten over hurting them and I knew if we had to talk about it, I would never be able to forgive myself.

"I'll see you at lunch," I said to Scott as I began walking towards Rogue. But he stopped me. He grabbed my wrist, his touch strong but gentle. I turned back to him.

"Do you need me to go with you?" he asked quietly.

I opened my mouth and then closed it. I was going to tell him 'no', but if it was my parents, specifically my mother, I _would_ need someone. I wanted Logan, but he wasn't there, Scott was. And he would have to do. Because when I was with my parents, I fell back into old habits, ones I had tried very hard to break. I didn't like who I was when I was with them. But I thought if Scott was there with me, he might be able to keep me grounding. Keep me from turning into the person I thought they wanted me to be.

I nodded my head. "Yeah, if you don't mind?"

He gave me a short, small smile. "I wouldn't have offered if I minded," he said.

I returned his smile with a small one of my own. "Thank you."

The two of us left his classroom for the Professor's office. My mind and heart raced the whole walk there. I didn't know why either of my parents would be there; there was nothing left to say between us.

Then I thought my visitor could be Dr. Lewis. He knew I was a mutant and that the school was for mutants, he wouldn't mind being there. Maybe he was checking up on me. At the wedding I mentioned that I was struggling to deal with the vision I had back in the summer and was paranoid by it. Maybe he was seeing if I had followed his advice and decided to remove my focus from the fear, as he had told me to. Or maybe he was checking on how I was doing at school. He was paying for my first semester; maybe he just wanted to see that his money was being put to good use. It had also been almost a year exactly since we had had our first and only session together. I thought maybe he could just be coming in for a visit to see how I was doing a year later.

And as we neared the Professor's office, I had the thought that it might be Tony. I had told him where I lived and gave him my phone number, but not my address. But he did work for the FBI after all, and I'm sure that if he wanted to find me, it really wouldn't be that hard for him. But why would he come visit, unannounced, when he had yet to even call me once since we had met? For all I knew, he had forgotten about me completely. Even though something inside me said he hadn't. There had been two more murders in the Blind Man case since we had last seen each other, and I knew he was busy. But still, that would be a big step to just show up at my home and I wondered how awkward it would be for me to have both him and Scott in the room at the same time.

I shook my head, trying to sort out my thoughts. I didn't know _who_ was there to visit me and it was silly for me to worry so much about it right then. I decided to worry about it once I knew for sure who it was.

Scott walked again of me and opened the door, holding it for me to go in first. I walked into Xavier's office, acknowledging the two figures sitting in the chairs facing away from me and towards the Professor, but not fully processing them. I didn't immediately recognize them and took that as I sign that they weren't there for me. Which wasn't odd. Parents came to visit their kids all the time; they just had to schedule them so that those of the students who were clearly mutant could have the option of avoiding them. But I felt odd walking in on one of his meetings and more than slightly rude. Even though there was no doubt he knew I was coming in and Rogue had told me to meet him in his office, which she had obviously gotten _wrong_; I had interrupted a meeting and hadn't even knocked on the door to announce myself. I had just gone bounding in like I owned the place. And I immediately regretted it.

As soon as I walked through the door, I was hit with an angry wave of energy that felt cold and made me sick to my stomach. The woman sitting in the chair in front of the Professor was seriously ill. I didn't know what was wrong with her, but there was no doubt that something was. From just being near her, I felt a pain in my gut and I was suddenly hit with a searing headache like none I had ever felt before. All I wanted was to get out of that room as quickly as possible.

"Sorry Professor," I apologized. "I thought Rogue said I had a visitor in here. I guess I misunderstood her. Sorry."

I started backing out of the room, giving Xavier an apologetic smile, when the woman turned around in her seat. And I felt myself go white as a ghost. I stumbled on my last step as I was walking backwards and I tripped, swearing as I fell down. I stared at the woman with wide eyed confusion and I felt the pain in my stomach grow greater, except from my own personal feelings this time. I barely noticed Scott helping me up. My whole body and mind went into overdrive trying to understand what was going on and I couldn't process much of anything except the woman sitting in the chair, looking at me.

"Hey sweetie," my mother said.

My mother. My _real_ mother. The one who had carried me for nine months, given birth to me, and then gave me away. She was sitting in a chair, in Professor Xavier's office, in my house. She was in _my_ house.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. Some part of my brain acknowledged Scott's hands holding me up, but it didn't seem to matter.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said and the man beside her turned around. It was her husband Mark. I had only met him twice and he seemed like a nice guy. Too nice to be with a woman like my mother. "_We_ wanted to talk to you."

My confusion quickly turned to anger. "You wanted to _talk_? Really? About what, how ashamed you are of me?"

"I never said I was ashamed of you, Jayden."

"You didn't have to. I could _see_ it."

"I never meant for you to."

"So just because you didn't want me to know about it made it okay for you to feel that way?" I asked, shaking my head. "This is ridiculous. I have enough stress in my life without having to deal with you."

I moved out of Scott's grip, my rage giving me enough strength to stand on my own, despite the pain I still felt. I turned around to leave and that's when I felt the Professor's presence in my mind, calming me. I stopped and looked back at him.

"Why don't you just listen to what they have to say, Jayden?" he asked.

"Because I wanted to talk to her every day for _fifteen years_ of my life, and she wasn't there. And there was _nothing_ I could do about it. Why should she get to talk to me when I never had that chance? She _left_ me, so I'm just following her examples," I spat.

She gave me a sad smile. "Still the same little spitfire I remember," she said. "You get that from your father."

I turned around fully. "You don't know anything about my father," I said quietly, warning her.

There was a change in the light in her eyes. "I know that he left us right after I gave birth to you."

"And you were just _so_ much better than that, weren't you? You would _never_ walk way from me, would you? At least he didn't _pretend_ to care for three years and then leave me," I said. "Like you."

"Your father didn't care about either of us, or he wouldn't have left us like he did."

"No, he didn't care about _you_, because you were just some whore who thought she could snag him and make all your friends jealous."

"Jayden, you're entitled to your own feelings and opinion, but I can't let you call my wife and whore," Mark said.

I turned my eyes on him. "What about a liar then? Can I call her that? Because didn't she tell you that she was _married_ to my father and that he died in a war before I was born? Didn't she tell you that they were in love but when he died, she just couldn't take care of me anymore? And didn't you ever find it odd that there _was_ no war in Canada at the time? Because no one's ever bored enough to start a war with Canada!" I exclaimed. "And even if there _was_ and he _did_ die in it, soldier's wives get checks when their husbands died to take care of themselves and their kids. It may not be a lot, probably not half as much as those people deserve, but it should be enough to take care of a three year old. What about when she lied to you about giving me away so that I could have a better life when she was really just embarrassed by me. Embarrassed by her own daughter. And why? Because I looked like the man she slept with _once_ and didn't want anything else to do with her. I was a reminder that her plan failed. She couldn't trap him and so she gave me away and started her life all over again."

"It's hard for a single parent as young as she was to take care of a child on her own. Yes, she _did_ lie to me, but she told me the truth and explained it to me and I understand where she was coming from," Mark said.

"Well, explain it to me. How is it okay to just get rid of your daughter and not care what happens to her because you're selfish and only care about yourself? How is _that_ okay?"

"It's not. But I put the blame on your father; if he had stayed around, maybe she could have taken care of you. That's not much of a man who would leave his own child, no matter what he thought of the mother."

"Don't you _dare_ talk about my father, you don't know him!" I snapped.

"And neither do you," said my mother. "He _left_ us Jayden. He didn't love us."

"No, just because he didn't love you doesn't mean he didn't love me," I said. "And I _do_ know him, because I found him."

"So where is he now?" she asked. "Because I'm here; but it doesn't look like he is, though."

"He's in Ohio," I said. "On a business trip."

"And where does he live?"

"He lives _here_. He's why _I'm_ living here. Because while you were playing house with your new kids, trying to _forget_ that I existed, he was trying to make things up to me."

"I never tried to forget that you existed. You were my daughter, you still are, and I have _always_ loved you. Just because I couldn't show it like other mothers doesn't mean I didn't love you any less. I _tried_. If I didn't love you, why would I have kept you for three years? Why didn't I just walk away like your father and let someone else find you or just let you die? I did the best I could, but I was young and stupid and I didn't know what else to do. How was I supposed to explain that I couldn't even hold my own daughter because of the disgust I felt for myself because of the mistake that _I_ had made."

"You don't get rid of a kid because you feel disgusted with yourself. You get consoling. You got rid of me because you were disgusted by _me_. Not yourself. _Me_. A three-year-old girl who didn't know why her own mother was leaving her. I _waited_ for you to come back. I sat by the front door, looking out the windows, and I waited for you to come back to get me. Do you understand what you did to me? Do you know how heartbroken I was? Because even if you didn't love me, I loved you. I loved you more than I loved anyone else for eighteen years of my life. I went to sleep each night, humming 'I'll Be Seeing You' because that's what you used to sing to me. And every night, I fell asleep thinking of you, wanting to _be_ with you."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"I loved you," I said. "Do you understand that? I _loved_ you and when I found out that you were ashamed of me… I have _never_ felt pain like that before. I waited for you because I loved you. All of my life I thought you loved me, too. And I waited for you. But you never came, you never called, you never wrote me. You hurt me like no one ever has before. You can't fix that with 'I'm sorry'. It doesn't work like that."

"Jayden, I'm sick," she said and I saw tears form in her eyes. "I _know_ I didn't do right, and I _know_ I hurt you. But I'm dying and I'm asking you to forgive me."

I shook my head, refusing to listen. "No," I said. "You don't get to do this to me. You can't ask me to forgive you because you're dying."

"Jayden, just _listen_ to her," the Professor said.

I kept shaking my head. "No, she can't do this to me," I said, turning and finally leaving the room. I made it to the end of the hall before I fell to my knees. I didn't even cry, I just sat there, in shock.

I heard Scott leave the room and follow me. He sat down beside me in the hall where I was still kneeling. "Are you okay?" he asked, placing a hand on my back tentatively.

"She's dying," I muttered, not fully grasping the weight of the words.

"I know," he said, moving his hand gently across my back, his movements more sure.

I shook my head, trying to make sense of it. "She doesn't get to die."

He pulled me from where I was kneeling into his arms where he was sitting up against the wall. He tried to comfort me but I was too shocked to explain that it didn't hurt.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mark exit the Professor's office and walk down the hall to us. He squatted down in front of me and looked in my eyes. "Jayden, please just listen to me, okay?" he asked, his eyes full of pain. "My wife is _dying_, and there's nothing I can do about it. I can't stop it, I can't help the pain, I can't do anything. All I can do is stand by and watch her. And when she asked me to find you for her, I did. I'm sorry if you don't want to see her but I _had_ to bring her here, and I hope you understand that."

"What's wrong with her?" I asked.

"She has a brain tumor. It's the size of a golf ball now; the doctors can't do anything for it. They said in six months it'll probably be the size of a tennis ball or bigger at the rate it's growing, and that she'll probably be dead by then," he said. "I need you to help me, _please_."

"What do you want _me_ to do? _I_ can't fix her."

"Tell her that you forgive her. Even if you don't, just tell her you do. Let her die knowing you're not angry with her. _Please_."

I listened to him, begging me to lie to her, and I fought with myself, wondering if I should. I had forgiven her. In a way. I understood that had she not given me away, my life wouldn't have turned out the way it had. I would never have met Logan.

Part of me had forgiven her, but there was something inside of me that held back saying this to either of them. Because there was a part of me that _hadn't_ forgiven her. Not for everything. I had been happy for years with the thought that she had given me away so that I could have a good life, a nice life. But then I found out that hadn't been true, and I couldn't forgive her for that.

He asked me to lie to her and I wondered if I should. I wondered if it was right for me to tell her a like just so that she could die believing that she had truly done right by me. If I should tell her that what she had done was the right thing to do. The _only_ thing to do. I wondered if I should tell her that I understood and forgave everything she had done.

Mark was asking me to lie to her and I wondered if I should. A lie might allow her to die in peace, but the truth was so much stronger. So much more convicting. She had left me, never tried to find me, and when _I_ finally found _her_, she had lied to me. I didn't want anything to do with her. I was happy she wasn't part of my life because the only time she had been, she had hurt me. She had left me. She had made me scared to get close to other people because I feared that they too would leave me, just like her.

He was asking me to give her peace. That's what she had come to me searching for. She had come to me looking for hope that I might be able to give it to her. But I was torn. Torn between feeding her a lie and telling her the truth. Torn between making her believe that despite it all, I still loved her and that nothing could change that. Not living with a different family. Not living miles apart. Not even death.

I was torn between wondering if I should tell her a lie of if I should tell her that honestly, I didn't feel much for her anymore. She wasn't part of my family. I was grown up, I had found a family of my own, one that loved me, and I didn't need her. I didn't want to waste anymore time on her than I had growing up. If she died, it meant nothing to me. Because she was merely a stranger that I had once known. She wasn't my mother; she hadn't been for a very long time.

"Please," Mark said again, his eyes brimming with tears. "This is the _only_ thing that she wants. She needs to hear you say that you forgive her, and that's the only thing I _can't_ give her. I'm losing my wife, and I can't stop it. There's nothing I can do to save her. No one can. I have to watch the woman that I've been in love with for thirteen years _die_. And I know she hurt you, but I'm begging you Jayden, _please_ do this for her. Please don't let her last days be spent worrying that you hate her. I can't tell you how to feel, and I won't, but I'm asking you, even if you have to lie through your teeth, _please_ do this for her."

I didn't know what to do; I was confused and wanted someone to make the decision for me. I wanted someone to tell me what the right thing to do was. I felt Scott's hand on my shoulder and he gave it a small squeeze. I looked at him, my eyes pleading for him to give me an answer. But he couldn't. This was something I had to do on my own.

And I was absolutely terrified.

* * *

"Hey darlin', you okay?" Logan asked, walking into my room. I was curled up on my bed and looked up at him. I shook my head 'no'. "Summers told me your momma can to visit."

"She's sick," I said quietly.

"I know."

I wrapped my arms around my knees, hugging them to my chest. Logan had just gotten home from his mission and my mother and Mark had left four hours before. I had spent those four hours in my room by myself. Scott and Hank had both came by and knocked on my door, trying to check up on me, but I hadn't let them in. I didn't want company. But when I heard the jet land, I was happy. Logan was home and I knew he could make it better.

"They said she has about six months to live."

He closed the door and walked over to my bed. He sat down on the edge of it, facing away from me. His hair was still wet from his shower and I could smell the shampoo he has used. "As crazy as it sounds, dyin's a part of life."

"Her husband wanted me to lie and tell her that I forgave her for everything."

He looked at me from over his shoulder. "What'd you tell her?"

"Hopefully the right thing." He didn't say anything, he just looked in my eyes and knew what I had told her and nodded his head slowly. "Can you hold me? Just for a little while?" I asked, my voice quiet and small.

"Yeah." He sat back against my head board, his back cushioned by my pillows, and he wrapped both his arms around me as I lay my head against his chest and he held me. "Everything's gonna be okay," he whispered in my ear. "You're gonna be all right."

I wrapped my arms around him, buried my face in his chest, and let myself cry. I didn't know what to do, everything was so confusing, and the only thing that made sense was to cry. I just wanted it to be over with; I wanted to understand why things had to be the way they were. I wanted to stop hurting.

Death; it was ever present in my life. Following me like a dark cloud. But this time it wasn't me it was after; it was my mother. And still it scared me.


	17. Running

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. Please enjoy!

* * *

"Hey, I was wondering where you were. I didn't see you at breakfast," Scott said, walking into the den the next day.

I had been hiding out in there all day watching a Cary Grant movie marathon on TV. I was curled up on one of the couches and wrapped up in a blanket watching 'The Holiday' when Scott found me.

"Yeah, I wasn't very hungry and didn't feel like going to the dining hall with everyone."

"Are you getting hungry?"

I shrugged from under my blanket. "A little. I'm pretty much just too lazy to get up."

He smiled and pulled a carton from behind his back. "Could you eat ice cream?"

I smiled back at him. "You bought me a pint of Half Baked?"

"Someone once told me that the best comfort food is ice cream."

"Whoever told you that was absolutely right."

"So do you mind if I sit and watch the movie with you?"

"No, go ahead."

He sat down beside me, careful not to sit on my toes, and handed me the pint of Ben and Jerry's and a spoon. He smiled as I took my first bite of it. "Feeling better now?"

"I'm starting to, thank you," I said. "This was very nice of you."

He gave the top of my feet a quick rub through my blanket. "You may not think that once I tell you that you have to share it with me." He gave me a smile. "Or at least let me have a bite and see what all the fuss is about."

"All right, did you bring another spoon?"

"No, but I think we established a while back that I don't have cooties." I laughed. "Do you?"

I shook my head. "Not the last time I checked," I said.

I was going to just _hand_ him the spoon and let him get his own bite. But something took over me and I dipped it myself and held out the spoon for him to eat off. He took the bite, holding my hand with his to steady it as I fed it to him. I instantly started blushing. I didn't know what had come over me and I wondered if I had crossed some line. But when he licked the chocolate from his lips and smiled at me, an innocent smile, telling me that what I had done was okay, my heart rate slowed back down some. But I still didn't know why I had done that.

"Not bad, but I prefer Cherry Garcia." I rolled my eyes at him and he gave me another smile. "Now tell me what this movie's about."

"Well, Cary Grant's character is engaged to the sister of Katherine Hepburn's character, but when she meets him, she falls in love with him, too."

"I see," he said, sounding slightly uninterested.

I laughed. "It's about to go off and 'To Catch A Thief' is coming on, so I'll change it."

"You don't like that movie?"

"I used to, but I can't watch it anymore."

"Why not?"

I didn't say anything for a moment as I swirled my spoon around in my ice cream. "It's just that it's the movie Hank and I were watching the night I fell asleep and had my vision. I was supposed to have been kidnapped, or whatever, that night."

"And you still think about it?"

I didn't look up at him. "Everyday," I whispered.

"You know we're not going to let anything happen to you, right?"

"That's what Logan keeps telling me, but no one understands what I saw, what happened to me, couldn't _be_ stopped. Logan couldn't save me, no one could."

"But I wasn't there." I looked up at him. "And I'll do everything I can to make sure you're safe," he said. "I promise."

I wanted to say something, I even opened my mouth to, but before I could say a word, my sight started shifting and suddenly I wasn't in the den anymore. I was outside.

I was standing in a parking lot surrounded by trees on one side and a building on the other. I couldn't tell exactly what the building was, but from the corner of my eye I could see a sign. It was a school.

I didn't know why I was there, I didn't understand until I saw something pale blue. It was someone's hand. My eyes followed the cold, rigid fingertips up the arms until I was staring straight in the face of a girl who looked my age. Her hair was dark and matted by blood. Her mouth was twisted in a horrified 'O' shape. And her eye sockets were empty.

She was dead.

I felt myself open my mouth to scream for help, but there was no sound.

And just as quickly as it came, the vision was over, and I was back sitting in the den with Scott.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

I blinked a few times and nodded. "Yeah, I just…I saw something."

"What did you see?"

"A dead girl," I mumbled.

"A dead girl?" he repeated. I nodded. He put his hand on one of my knees. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, but I need to make a phone call."

I left the den, with Scott right behind me, and found one of the school's phones. I dialed the number I hadn't realized I had memorized so well until I heard the voice on the other end answer.

"This is Agent De Luca, hello."

"Tony, hey, this is Jayden."

"Miss Rivers, I thought you had forgotten about me. How are you?"

"I'm okay, but I'm afraid this isn't exactly just a friendly phone call."

"Is everything okay?" he asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"I'm fine but I needed to ask you a question."

"Okay, what did you need to ask me?"

"Have you found a new victim in your case in the past week?"

"Uh…no, no we haven't. Why do you ask?"

"Because I saw a girl I think was killed by the same man."

"You _saw_ her?"

"Yeah," I said. "In a vision."

"Okay, where?"

"It wasn't real clear, but she was in a parking lot of a school and there were trees all around her on one side. I just don't know where the school's at."

"Do you know the name of it?"

"Mount Vernon High."

"Okay, good. Do you remember anything about how she looked, or how she was positioned, or anything else?"

"She was on her back, um…her hair had blood in it, but I didn't see where it came from. She looked like she had a bruise on her…right wrist, I think. Her mouth looked like she had been screaming, but I don't know how it could have kept that shape. And her eyes were gone."

"Do you remember the color of her hair or what she was wearing?"

"Her hair was dark, maybe black or dark brown. But like I said, it had blood in it, so I couldn't tell exactly. She was white…I mean, I guess she was, her skin was a blue color, like she had been dead for quite a while. She was wearing blue jeans, a purple sweatshirt, and a pair of sneakers."

"Do you know how old she was?"

"She looked like a high school student, so about seventeen or eighteen, I guess."

"Is there anything else that you remember about her?"

"I don't know if it was her name or not, but the name Lena Masters was going over and over in my head. I don't know if it means anything, though."

"Okay, I'll have this check out. Thank you."

"Yeah, you're welcome."

"I'm going to call this information in, but I'll leave your name out of it."

"Okay."

"Are you sure you're going to be all right, though? I know it's not easy looking at a scene like that."

"She's not the first dead person I've ever seen. She's not even the first one this month. And I know she won't be the last either. You get used to it, you know that."

"Yeah, I do."

"Well, I'll let you go to call you anonymous tip in. Good luck."

"Thanks," he said. "Maybe when this is all over with, we can go out to dinner and start all over again."

I smiled. "Yeah, I think I would like that."

"Good," he said. "Bye Miss Rivers."

"Bye Tony."

I hung up and let out a deep breath. I could still see the girl in my mind and it was starting to make me sick. I felt Scott's hand on my back and I turned to face him. And he pulled me into his arms.

"I'm _so_ tired," I said. "I just want to be able to control this. And I don't want to see stuff like that anymore. I don't want to see dead people."

"I know you're tired," he said. "I know."

I held back tears as he held me to him and right then, Scott wasn't someone I was in love with, he wasn't making my heart jump by holding me, and he didn't make my stomach flutter by whispering in my ear. He was just the man who was keeping me standing. He was keeping me from collapsing on the floor. I was completely tired, worn out by mental and emotional exhaustion. I felt like I just couldn't take it anymore. I was done.

* * *

I knocked on Logan's door but didn't wait for an answer before going in. He was sitting on his bed, reading a book called 'In Cold Blood', but when I came in, he immediately put the book down.

He looked at me, his eyebrow raised. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"Can we run away?"

He stood and walked to me. He looked down at me, into my eyes, and I knew he could see what I had seen. "Runnin' away ain't gonna get you away from that, darlin'," he said. "That's something you can't leave here and let me drive you away from."

I nodded. "I know. But I need _out_. I need to move. I'm so tired and I feel like I'm suffocating here." I closed my eyes and took a couple of deep breaths. "Everywhere I go, I just feel… I don't know, sad. Angry. Confused. You don't understand the imprint energy makes when something like yesterday happens. I feel my mother everywhere and I _hate_ her for it. I hate her for everything. She's dying, and I feel that everywhere I go in the house. And I need out."

"Where do you wanna go?"

I shook my head, trying to breathe through my emotions. "I don't know. I just want to get out of here and be with you."

"Okay."

I looked up at him, opening my eyes to look into his. "Okay?"

"Yeah. Go grab a bag and meet me here when you're done," he said. "Then we can leave."

I nodded and wrapped my arms around him, hugging him. "I love you, Logan."

He pulled me into his arms and hugged me back. "I love you too, baby," he said and gave me a kiss on top of my head as he cradled it to him. "I love you, too."

He held me a little longer before finally letting me go to my room to pack. I threw a few things in my army bag, pulled on my sneakers and my leather jacket and met him back in his room in less than ten minutes. He was ready too and we left, trying to make as little of a scene as possible. But Hank, Rogue and the Professor saw us on our way to the garage. They didn't say anything to stop us, Hank and the Professor told us to be careful, though and Rogue said she hoped I felt better when I came back. We just nodded, said we'd be back later and told them bye. They knew we wouldn't be gone long. I had school again in only a week and Logan still had his teaching duties, even if they had moved inside due to the cold weather. But they didn't know where we were going or how long we would be gone.

And neither did we.

Logan was a loner by nature. He didn't like responsibilities and had a Devil may care attitude. The Italians even had a word for him: Menefreghista. It meant 'one who doesn't give a care'… Actually, the real definition was a ruder version than that, but it was still the same basic thing. He was a drifter, going from one two to the next, leaving whenever he had gotten bored or had used up all of the bars and women and needed a change of scenery. But he started feeling old, feeling tired, and a feisty little southern belle had grabbed a hold of his heart and made him commit himself to her. He had been infatuated with Jean, but always came back for Marie. She was the weight in his crazy world. And so he stuck around for her until he fell in love with her, and then he stuck around for him, so he could be with her.

Then I came along, bounding into his life unexpectedly. I was use to a life of order, of stability, of predictability, of habit. I was used to living in a routine, but always felt stuck. I felt caged. There were so many things I wanted to do, to see, and I felt like I would never have the chance. I wanted a life with no strings to hold me back, no responsibilities to keep me from being myself. And when I ran away from home for Canada, I got that chance. When I was with Logan, we would stay two or three nights in a town before packing up and going to the next one. I had enjoyed it while it lasted, but when I went back home, I discovered I still craved something stable, predictable. I still needed a place to call my home. And when I moved to the school, I knew that's where I was meant to be.

But there were still times when I got antsy and needed to move. I needed to know I could leave anytime I wanted. It was something that came from never being able to leave when I was with my parents. I always needed to break free and I couldn't. And as Logan and I left the school that afternoon, something inside of me was thrilled at the prospect of leaving, of not having a plan, but just _going_. And when I looked at Logan, I saw in his eyes the very same thing. Part of him may have wanted something permanent, a home to always come back to, but at the end of the day, he was still the same animal inside that needed to be able to run free. And even if he had to take me with him, he got to leave, to escape, and that was something he was very good at.

When we reached the garage, we got into his car and drove away. I watched as the mansion became smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror and let out a sigh of relief.

I could breathe again.

We drove for about three and a half hours before we pulled over to a diner on the side of the road for dinner. By the time we had stopped, it was starting to get dark and cold out. And when we got in the diner and sat down, I saw the first snow of the season start to fall.

"So how long are we runnin' for?" Logan asked after we had ordered and our waitress had brought our drinks.

I shrugged. "I have the week off."

He let out a chuckle as he lit up a cigar. "Yeah, but Thursday's Thanksgivin', you wanna be home for that, don't you?"

I shrugged again. "I don't know."

He took a long draw of his cigar and then blew out the smoke. "We'll go back Wednesday night."

"What if I'm not better by then? What if the house…what if I can still feel her in it?"

He stared at me hard for a long moment. "It ain't the house; it's you."

I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms over my chest. "Well thanks for the vote of confidence," I said dry and sarcastically. "But I know what it is and it's her."

"No, you want it to be her so you can blame her. You wanna be pissed at her."

"And I think I have every right to be."

"You do," he said. "But that ain't what this is about."

"Then what _is_ it is about, Logan? Because all I can think of is that the woman who gave birth to me gave me away and then came back when I was nineteen to tell me that she was dying and did something to my house, _my_ house, that now when I'm in it, I feel sick. I feel _her_ sickness. That's the only thing she ever gave to me; a stomachache."

"No, you want me to tell you what this is about? This is about the fact that you wanna hate her with everything you got in you, more than you hate anyone, and you _can't_. You wanna hate her for leavin' you, but you can't forget that until last year, you loved her more than anyone else. You wanted to be with her, you took up for her, and no matter how much you wanna hate her, you still love her. And you're pissed 'cause she's dyin' and you don't get to tell her how much she hurt you. You're pissed at yourself 'cause you don't want her to die. You care about her and you hate that."

I glared at him from underneath my eyebrows. "Why do you have to be such a know it all? Can't I just be pissed when I want to be?"

He raised his beer and paused it right at his lips. "I never said you couldn't be pissed, darlin', go right on ahead, I just want you to be honest about who you're pissed at."

"Well you now," I said, pouting slightly.

He took a sip of his beer and then sat it down. He leaned back and mirrored my own position, crossing his arms over his chest. "That's fine with me. You can be pissed at me all you want. You can yell at me, kick me, punch me, I don't care. 'Cause at the end of the day, I'm still gonna be here and I'm still gonna take care of you."

I pouted more and I could feel my top canine teeth digging dangerously into my bottom lip that I had pouted out. "And why can't you just let me be mad at you either? Why do you have to go and pull all of that nice crap out when I'm upset?" I asked as our waitress came back to our table, bringing me my bowl of chili.

He gave me a smirk. "'Cause you're my girl and I can't have you bein' mad at me," he said with a wink.

I shook my head. "Since I'm your girl, does that mean you'll buy dessert for me?"

He laughed. "Whatever makes you happy."

I smiled at him. "Being with you makes me happy," I said. "Even if you are a pompous, know it all, jackass sometimes."

He smirk grew wider. "But you still love me."

"Yeah, I do."

And that was all it took for me to stop being mad at him. Because for whatever reason, whenever he gave me that wicked smirk of his, any anger I had for him disappeared. It was a teenager's right to be mad at their parents, and there were times when I _was_ genuinely mad at him, but it never lasted very long.

We ate our dinner in relative silence, neither of us feeling too much like talking. I wasn't in the best of moods and for some reason, neither was he. But after I ordered dessert and he was on his forth beer, I found out why.

"So," he started, "what's the deal with you and Summers?"

"There _is_ no deal. We're just friends."

"I'm not dumb, kid, and I ain't blind either."

"I never said you were."

He gave me a dark look from under his brow that said he wasn't playing games. "I know how a man's mind works. And I know with the way he's been lookin' at you, he ain't interested in just 'bein' friends'."

"How do you know how he looks at me? You can't see his eyes."

"Doesn't matter. Men only get three things on their mind; food, sleep, and sex. He's eatin' and sleepin' at the mansion, so he's only needin' one thing."

"Yeah, well, it's not what I need. I don't even want to _think_ about it, because every time I do… I see what those men did to me in my vision," I said. "So I think you're pretty safe."

"Good, 'cause sex it bad. Don't ever do it, especially with Summers."

"If it's bad then why do you and millions of other people do it?"

"'Cause they're not like you. You're still good."

I shook my head. "I'm not good, Logan. I'm as screwed up as everyone else, probably more. I don't think being with Scott is going to make that any worse. Even though it'll never happen because we're just friends."

"Who are you tryin' to convince; you or me?"

"You," I said immediately. I let out a breath and shook my head. "Both of us, maybe," I admitted quietly.

"What's he doin' to you?"

"He's not doing _anything_ to me, that's the point. I _want_ him to feel the same way that I feel about him, but then the thought of that scares me. I don't want it to scare me, but it does, and I just wish that I could get over him and leave it alone. I don't want to feel the way I do about him Logan, but I can't help it." I sat back and looked at him expectedly. He gave me the eyebrow. "Aren't you going to give me some relationship advice, or something?"

He took a sip of his beer and gave a small laugh. "You really think I'm in any shape to be givin' relationship advice?"

I shrugged. "You're old, you've gone through a lot, and you're my father. I think you're qualified to give me _some_ sort of advice."

"My advice to you is to stay away from him."

"_Why_? Why do you hate him?"

"Why do you hate Marie?" he shot back.

"Because I feel like she's taking you away from me," I blurted out without thinking.

"No one's takin' me away from you, darlin', you understand me? Not even her."

"That's not what it feels like."

"I never wanted it to feel like that. You're not Marie and she's not you. You're my _daughter_. You know I love you and I'm not gonna leave you, right?" I didn't say anything. He shook his head, frustrated and ran his hand back through his hair. "Why don't you believe me when I tell you that? Why don't you know by now that I love you and I'm not gonna leave you?"

"Because everyone else has."

"But I'm _not_. And I don't know what you want me to do to make you believe that?"

"Nothing; there's nothing you _can_ do. This is about you, it's about me and I get that. It's my fault that I'm scared you're going to leave me because everyone else has. I realize that you're not like them. I know you love me, I _know_ that, but people who have said they love me _have_ hurt me and they _have_ left me, and I don't know how to separate you from them in my mind, because no one has ever tried to get me to separate them. And I know that hurts you and I'm sorry. I don't know _how_ to deal with this and I'm sorry that I suck at being a person."

"You don't suck at being a person," he said.

"Yeah I do. I hate people for no real, _logical_ reason, I'm in love with someone I don't want to be in love with, I still want my mother to love me and she won't, my parents tried to make me love them and I couldn't, and I have the one person who would do anything to take care of me sitting in front of me and I'm letting you down."

He closed his eyes and exhaled, shaking his head slowly. "You're not lettin' me down."

I felt my eyes sting as tears sprung up, and I fought them away. My throat became tight and sore and I felt my top lip tremble. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

He looked up at me. "No I'm not. It's the truth," he said. "Neither of us knows what we're doin', all right? I mean that's pretty obvious, kid. I ain't ever been a father before."

"And you do a great job," I said, a tear sliding down my cheek. I wiped it away. "I've had nineteen years of practice of being someone's daughter. And I _still_ suck at it."

He reached across the table and took my hand. "This isn't the same thing. I'm not your parents, and you weren't ever _their_ daughter. You've always belonged to me, and even though it took a long time to get here, I think it was pretty freakin' worth it. I can't be the kind of father you're used to havin', that's not me. And I don't expect you to be the kind of daughter you've always been, either. There ain't no way we could get along if you were. I didn't ask you to come live with me 'cause I thought you were perfect. I wanted you with me 'cause I knew you snored, you were a crap liar and an even crappier cook. You're messy, you got a temper almost as bad as mine and you swear like drunken sailor on holiday. You're not perfect, I'm never gonna tell you that you are, and I don't want you to be, 'cause no matter what you do, it doesn't matter, 'cause you're _mine_. And I'm not a perfect father, I know that. I don't know how fathers are supposed to be, I don't even remember my own, so I ain't got anything to go by. All I know is I love you and I'm always gonna take care of you and everything else I do on instinct." I wiped away a few more tears that had rolled from my eyes. "Do you understand me?" he asked. I nodded. "Good."

"I'm sorry," I whispered through my tears.

"For what?"

I shrugged my shoulder. "If I ever made you feel like you weren't a good enough father. Because you are," I said. "And I love you."

He moved from his seat and sat next to me. He pulled me into his arms and gave my forehead a kiss. "I love you too, baby."

I watched the snow fall outside and relished in the feeling of my father's arms around me, holding me. Because no matter what was going on in the world, in my life, in my mind, he always instilled a sense of calmness. We weren't perfect, but maybe we were never meant to be. And being with him made me feel like that was all right. He made _me_ feel all right. When I was in my father's arms, I felt invincible. And nothing could take that away from me.

* * *

The room was dark, even with my heightened eyesight, I couldn't see through the inky blackness. I saw a light and the closer it got, the brighter it became. And soon it was right in my eyes, blinding me. I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust. And when they did, I saw Logan.

He was lying on a table, held by restraints. His arms, waist and legs were bound by thick leather straps, holding him to the surface he was lying on. His eyes were squinted against the bright light and his top lip was curled back in a snarl as he felt the hands on his arms, checking and then tightening their restraints. The light faded some, he stopped squinting, and he looked up at the men standing above him. There were three men, two were working with his straps and the other one was holding a clipboard. It was the same man who was always there. Always watching. He was the one who ordered the other two to turn his hands palm up and secure his wrists.

Then he told them to begin.

Both the men disappeared into the dark and when they came back, they were each holding hammers. One of them placed a nail in the center of Logan's hand. The nail was dull and thick and rusty. He took his hammer and swung it, bedding the nail half way into his hand. Logan writhed on the table from the pain and tiled his head back and let out a howl. The man swung again, hammering the nail further, but not all the way. It took two more swings to get the nail all the way through his hand and the surface behind it. Then the other man took his turn and went even slower driving in his nail. It wasn't until they nailed his feet together and stood him up straight did I realize what they had done; they had crucified him.

He was on a wooden cross, leaning up against a wall and I could feel the pain he was feeling. I thought they were going to leave him there and that would be it. But then the man who had nailed his hand first took the hammer he still had with him and swung it into Logan's legs, breaking them both. Logan screamed as his body slacked from losing the support of his knees and immediately he could feel the burn in his chest. The point of crucifixion was to shut off the lungs and eventually suffocate the person. And Logan could feel that as soon as his legs were broken.

I saw the horror in his eyes and could feel the pain he felt and I fought to stop seeing it. He struggled to breathe as the two men beat him with whips and leather straps, lashing his skin. He tried to keep from screaming and concentrate on breathing. I felt my chest sting, my whole body burned from the pain of the whips and I wanted it to stop. I didn't want to see him hurting anymore. I didn't want to watch them beat him. And I fought it, shaking my head. I wanted to scream and yell and tell them to stop, but I couldn't.

Then I heard him speak.

"_Wake up_."

I looked at him, hanging up on the cross, still struggling.

"_Wake up Jayden, I'm right here_."

I sat up in bed, gasping for air and saw Logan sitting beside me. Without hesitation or question, he pulled me to him and held me while I caught my breath. He didn't say anything; he just stroked my hair and waited for me to speak first.

"Why do they hurt you? Why do they do that to you?" I asked, still trying to catch my breath.

"They're not doin' it anymore," he whispered in my ear. "No one's hurtin' me."

"But I still see it. Why can't they just leave us alone?"

"I don't know," he said. "But they can't hurt you, they can't touch you, they're not here. They're dead. They're all dead. And they're not hurtin' me anymore. I'm right here with you, baby, all that's over with."

I curled up in his arms like a child and let him hold and rock me. "I'm just so tired of watching them hurt you," I said.

"Then you gotta wake up, 'cause I'll always be right here," he said, whispering in my ear again.

"You promise?"

"Yeah," he said, giving me a kiss on my forehead. "I promise I'll always be here for you."

"Can you stay with me tonight?"

"Yeah, just go to sleep and I'll be here."

I lay back down and he lay beside me, pulling me to him. I rested my head on his chest and he covered me with the blanket from my bed in our motel room.

"I'm so tired," I mumbled.

"I know you are, baby, I know you are. Just try gettin' some sleep. Tomorrow'll be better."

I fell asleep that night in his arms, tired and crying, and I hoped that the next day _would_ be better.


	18. Man Who Never Was

Disclaimer: Same as always; I don't own anything, but I'm a poor eighteen year old girl, so suing me would seriously get you no where. Please enjoy.

* * *

I didn't remember waking, I was just awake. I was curled up by Logan, my head on his chest and I watched as the sun rose, illuminating the snow as it fell outside the window.

The motel we had stayed at was actually pretty nice. The room was a little small but it was cleaner than most we had stayed in. My senses were sensitive, they usually were when I first woke up, and I could smell the strong scent of cleaning supplies like bleach and carpet cleaner. Even though they gave me a headache to smell them, I was at least comforted by the fact that they actually _cleaned_ their rooms.

I lay there thinking and I couldn't get my mind to rest. Everything I thought of spurred another thought and along with it, another worry. I wanted everything to be simple. I was tired of confusing. I was tired of worry. I was tired of hurt. I was tired of scared. I was just plain _tired_. I felt like every time I was about to get a break, something else would come through and hit me.

My vision had started it all off. Not that my year had been easy before that, but it seemed to be the catalyst for my current situation. After I saw it, it was just a snow ball effect as I felt my life go down hill and spin out of control. My vision, my parents divorce, my physical mutation, and my mother dying. That was enough to deal with on its own, but along with it I was trying just to _survive_ my life. I had school and training. I was trying to deal with my relationship with Scott and figure out _what_ was going on with it. I was _trying_ to be a better person. I tried doing things, no matter how small, to attempt to make up for what I had done in my life. And I felt overwhelmed by it all.

How did I even fit into the world, _why_ was I here? All I seemed to have done was hurt people and get hurt in return. I didn't know what I believed in and that ate away at me. I couldn't help but thinking that if I had a faith, things would be a lot easier for me. If I had something to fall back on or blame, maybe things would be less confusing.

I kept thinking about the Hellish nightmares I kept having about Logan. They weren't quite as frequent or as severe as they had been before, but they were still horrifying. I didn't want to watch my father being tortured. Even if it _was_ over with, someone had hurt him. He could be mean and rude and had a killer streak in him that darkened his eyes whenever he turned himself over to his berserker rage. But he was the best person I had ever met. He was loyal to a fault. He was brilliant, more than he let most people know. And he was unbelievably good. He thought women and kids should be protected, and would never hurt either, unless they could hold their own, and wouldn't allow anyone else to hurt them either. He was incredibly understanding; even if he didn't always agree with someone's beliefs, he didn't disrespect them. He hated people who were prejudice and didn't think it was right to lash out and hurt people just because of how they looked or lived. Looking at him, you could never tell. He looked like the kind of man who would slap a woman around and get a thrill of picking a fight with someone for no good reason. But that was as far from the truth as you could get. Under his great big, hairy, growly exterior, he had one of the best hearts.

And that's why I didn't understand how people could hurt him the way that they had. But they did. They had beaten and tortured him, and as soon as he got the chance, he killed them all. I was brought back to a question I had been thinking about; was there ever a time when murder was acceptable? Those men had pushed Logan to the brink, taking him as far as he could go and then watched him heal before pushing him to the edge again. Any type of person who was sick and evil enough to torture someone without reason was a person too evil to live. They shouldn't be able to live long enough to hurt someone else.

But do we ever have the right to take that decision into our own hands? Should we ever be able to decide if someone should live or die? And where do we draw the line between taking out evil and becoming it ourselves if we find it our place to take someone else's life? What makes us different from them? Because certainly not _all_ people are born wicked, though some of us may be. But some of us were brought up into situations that forced us into wickedness. Some bad people genuinely believed they were doing right, that some how their actions were justified by what they _thought_ was right. Did those who thought they were doing the right thing, no matter how truly wicked, deserve to die if they didn't understand that what they were doing was evil? Or should they have the opportunity to repent? Or if you've hurt someone so badly, should you get the chance to be forgiven or ask for forgiveness?

I knew that if the men I had seen in my vision beating and raping me, and almost killing Logan, had lived long enough to ask me to forgive them, I wouldn't have. Because in my vision, some of them had. The ones I hadn't killed at first contact, anyway. And I knew that in my vision, I had also enjoyed killing them. There was a sick sense of power I had in taking their lives and that feeling still stayed with me. I didn't understand why I felt that way and I didn't want to. I wanted to believe that I was above that type of power trip, but I wasn't. And that scared me. I never wanted to be the type of person that I saw myself as. But was it _right_? Did I have the right to _kill_ them? They had screwed my life up, they had made me paranoid, scared and hurt me in every aspect of my life, but since what I had seen hadn't _actually_ happened, it was stopped before it could, should I have allowed Logan to kill them?

I let out a sigh, really wanting to just go back to sleep, but I couldn't with everything in my head.

"You awake?" Logan asked.

"Yeah."

"What're you doin'?"

"Thinking."

"About what?"

"Different stuff."

"You're worryin' about something."

"A little bit."

"What is it?"

"I was just wondering if maybe I did the right thing by letting you kill those men I saw in my vision."

"You didn't _let_ me; I did that on my own."

"But if I had told you not to -"

"It still would've done it. It didn't matter what you _wanted_ me to do. If someone's tryin' to hurt my daughter, then I do what I gotta do to stop 'em."

"But was it the right thing to do?"

"What were our other options?"

"I don't know, telling the police."

"Tellin' 'em what? That you saw 'em in a _vision_ and you knew they were gonna kidnap you? You're a mutant, you knew what they were gonna do 'cause of your mutation. You tell the police that and they'll either laugh in your face or force you to come out and register. Killin' ain't always the best thing kid, and it ain't easy for some, but I'm tellin' you I don't lose any sleep at night over it. It may not be the best thing to do, but it was the only thing to do."

"Does that make it okay? Does it make it right?"

"I don't know. But I do know that lettin' any of 'em go would've been a mistake. And you have no idea how pissed I am for lettin' that other one get away. I do what I gotta do to take care of you. That's my job. You're job isn't to worry about it. You got no reason to feel guilty about anything."

I let out a deep breath. "Okay."

He let out a laugh that made my head bob with the rise and fall of his chest. "Why do you say 'okay' when you don't believe me?"

"I don't know. I guess I just feel bad that you're trying so hard to make me feel better and I can't ever seem to let it go."

"I thought you were good at doin' what you're told?"

"I used to be."

"What happened?"

I lifted my head and looked up at him. "You told me to stop."

He gave me a half smirk. "Wouldn't _that_ be doin' what you're told?"

I smiled. "Probably."

He gave me another laugh. "You hungry?" he asked, pushing the hair from my eyes.

"Yeah."

"Go get dressed and we'll get some breakfast."

I nodded and pushed myself out of bed. I really just wanted to go back to sleep, but since I wasn't going to be able to, I thought the next thing would be eating. Logan usually knew where the best restaurants were. And even if he had never been there, he had a sort of sixth sense about that sort of thing. He didn't joke around about food.

I grabbed my bag and went into the bathroom. I was digging around for my toothbrush when I noticed something. "Uh…Logan?"

"Yeah."

"I think there's a problem," I said. I heard him get up and come to the bathroom. He opened the door and I showed him my hands.

He cocked an eyebrow and his head. "What happened?" he asked, grabbing my hands and examining the palms. I had nail marks in them.

"I think it's from my vision. They crucified you."

"I know," he said. "Do they hurt?"

"No, they're just…weird," I said, looking at both sides of my hands.

"I don't think people are lookin' at us to be normal, darlin'. As long as they don't hurt, they'll probably go away soon."

"Unless I've developed a sudden case of stigmata." He laughed. "What? With everything else that's gone on and happened to me, I wouldn't doubt it."

He bent down and gave me a kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry you gotta go through this, darlin'."

I wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. He gave me another kiss, on my cheek, and let his lips linger on my skin and he pulled me into his arms. "It's not your fault," I said.

"Well it ain't yours," he said, his mouth still pressed against my cheek.

"Can I remind you that the next time I'm in trouble?"

He laughed. "I'll deny I ever said it."

"I wouldn't doubt it."

"Get dressed and I'll buy you some pancakes. Deal?"

I nodded. "Yeah, deal."

"Be ready to leave in under ten minutes and I might get you something extra."

I pulled away and looked up at him. "What? Like bacon?"

He gave me a kiss on my forehead once more. "Maybe some hash browns," he said with a wink.

I laughed. "Well then, I'll be sure to hurry as fast as I can," I said jokingly.

And I did, but I kept getting sidetracked at the sight of my hands. It was hard for me, even after getting used to my tattoos, to look down and see scar from wounds I had never personally acquired. I tried to cover them with makeup, but it just didn't work. I concentrated on just getting myself ready to leave and once I was done, I took an old pair of gloves I had found shoved at the bottom of my bag and had Logan cut the fingers off, leaving me with fingerless gloves that covered my scars and the tattoos on my wrists. Which made me happy, even though he made fun of me and said I looked like a hobo.

We packed up our bags and Logan went to check out so we could get back on the road. There was no point in staying in the room any longer. The energy of my vision from Logan's beating was stuck there and I couldn't stay in it any longer without risking having it haunt me later that night. Although I couldn't see a vision twice, energy could get trapped in rooms, especially ones made from brick. After Scott's and my run in with the kid in Boston two months earlier, I had talked to Hank about how I had gotten sick the closer we got to the boy when we were in the sewer. He said that bricks were made out of the same materials used in tape recorders, and when exposed to extreme amounts of distress, rage, terror, or any other heightened emotion, the energy we all put out leaves an imprint, like a recording of the event. And when someone like me, who's incredibly sensitive to energy, is put into something like a tunnel _made_ of brick, it was absolutely natural for me to experience what I had. It's like it played out for me like a tape would in a VCR. It also explained why some of my vision seemed to get 'stuck in a room where I would see images of them when I went back to them later. Logan didn't _completely_ understand, because he didn't have to go through it. But there was something inside of us that was connected and he could feel how hard it was for me. And so he never asked any question, he just told me to pack up and wait in the car while he checked out.

And that's exactly what I was doing. I sat in the car, watching the snow fall and waited for him to come back. I wasn't paying too much attention to what was going on around me, tired from my lack of sleep, and just thinking about what we were going to be doing that day, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw a man pull up in a truck a few spots away from our car and get out. He turned, looking both ways before spotting the main office, and I saw his face. Looking at him I felt my adrenaline start pumping and immediately felt sick to my stomach. I couldn't stop staring at him and I found myself frozen, unable to move, and I felt another panic attack coming on.

When Logan stepped out of the main building, I saw him turning his head and sniff the air. When he turned his head to look at me in the car, he saw my frozen expression. And he ran to me.

He flung open my door and looked down at me. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I felt tears burn my eyes and my chest hurt and felt tight. I felt like I couldn't breathe. "It's him," I managed to whisper.

"Who?" he asked. I didn't say anything. "_Who_ Jayden?" he snapped. "Who is it?"

"Him," I said. "It's _him_."

"_Who_ is he?" he asked, forcing me to look in his eyes.

"The man, it's him. It's the man from my vision. The last one. It's him, it's him."

I watched as his eyes turned dark. He knew exactly who I was talking about. "The one who just went past me?" Again, I didn't answer. I was trying hard to breath. "Which one was it?" he growled.

I nodded my head. "The one that just went in, yeah," I mumbled as tears flowed down my cheeks. But I was too numb to really feel them.

"Are you sure?"

"I've seen that face a hundred times in my sleep," I said, feeling lightheaded from lack of oxygen. "I _know_ it was him."

"All right. Lock the doors. I'll be back in a little bit," he said and shut my door.

I locked them, just like he told me to do, and watched him walk back to the building. He waited for the man to come out and go to his new room. Then he followed him. The next time the man came to his door, Logan pushed him back in and shut the door behind him.

I felt my eyesight darkening as my breathing became more and more shallow. I fought to stay conscious, but I couldn't.

Then the darkness took over.

* * *

"No one saw me," Logan said.

"How do you know? You were at a motel; there are people everywhere, how do you know that not _one_ of them saw you?" Scott asked.

"'Cause they didn't have any security cameras outside of the check in office and the parkin' lot was empty. There may've been five other cars aside from ours in it."

"Five cars isn't _empty_, Logan; that's five owners and other people who could have been with them."

"No one was outside except for her," Logan shot back.

"Yeah, that's another thing; you left her outside by herself while she was in the middle of a panic attack. What were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinkin' that she was scared outta her mind just be lookin' at him and I wasn't gonna let him get away again."

"So you put your own daughter's health on the line to settle your own vendetta?"

"I didn't put her health on the line," Logan said, his voice rising in anger. "And I wasn't settlin' something of my own; I was doin' it for her. I let him get away the first time, I wasn't gonna do it again."

"So you left her in the car to pass out while you were killing a man in a motel room for _her_? Well, if that doesn't earn you the Father of the Year Award, I don't know what will," Scott said sarcastically.

"Why do you care?"

"Why do I care if you leave Jayden in a car while you kill someone?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to start on the part where you left your daughter, who was scared and couldn't breathe, in a car by herself or the part where you committed murder and killed someone who could have very well been innocent?"

"He wasn't innocent; she said it was him and when I was talkin' to him he told me who he was. Death makes you tell the truth like that," Logan said. "And actually I'd like you to start at the part where you pay too much attention to my daughter."

I heard Scott give a laugh. "You think I pay too much attention to her? Are you sure you just don't pay enough? She needs someone to talk to sometimes, Logan. And when you're with Rogue, which is fine by me, she doesn't have you around. Who else is she supposed to talk to?"

"Well thanks for approvin' my relationship, I was real worried about that," Logan spat sarcastically. "And as far as not payin' enough attention to her, I spend every freakin' day with her and it's none of your business what we do or talk about when we're together. And if she needs someone to talk to she can talk to Hank or Chuck. Anyone but you."

"So you don't want me to talk to her period?" Scott asked. "I can't even be friends with your daughter?"

"No. I want you to stay away from her, 'cause I know you're not just 'friends'. I'm not stupid, Summers."

"Have I ever made it known that I have any intentions _other_ than just being friends with her?"

"No, but like I said; I'm not stupid."

"No you're not. Which is why I think you should be more sensible about this. I can't even be friends with her, but you were okay with _seducing_ my wife?"

"I was fine with it, but you should't've been."

"And at what point did I ever say I _was_?"

"If someone was tryin' to seduce my wife, I'd kill 'em. You never even tried."

"Well maybe I should take up that offer right now."

"Gentlemen," I heard the Professor say as the sound of his chair and a 'whoosh' filled the room, "if the two of you are done, I think you might like to know that Jayden's awake now." I cracked my eyes open and saw Xavier parked beside my bed. He gave me a warm smile. "Playing possum?"

I smiled back at him. "They were on a roll; I didn't want to interrupt them," I mumbled.

"How are you feeling?"

"Tired and I have a bit of a headache," I said, taking in the room. I was in the infirmary. "What happened?"

"You passed out in the car and Logan drove you both straight home," he said. "I'm sorry that your field trip was cut short. But we're happy to have you back home."

I laughed. "Well, it's good to have a home to come back to."

"And you always will," he said, taking my hand and giving it a kiss.

"Thank you," I said. "How long was I out?"

"Five hours," Logan answered.

I pushed myself up and looked at him and Scott. My head was pounding, but I tried to ignore it. "How long have we been home?"

"About twenty minutes," he said.

"Am I okay?" I asked.

"Yes," the Professor said. "Henry came to check on you and make sure everything was fine."

"Where is Hank?"

"Ororo's asked him to help her move some things around in her room. He asked me to make sure you were okay once you woke up."

"I swear I spend more time in this infirmary than my own bed."

He smiled. "But you're fortunate that it's never anything too serious."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that you heard everything we said?" Scott asked.

I shrugged. "Works for me."

He shook his head. "I think we need to talk about it."

"About what?" Logan asked. "There's nothing to talk about."

"Why don't we talk about how you're trying to give her rules and say that I can't even talk to her? Jayden is an adult."

"Something I think you've taken too much notice of. And if I catch you starin' at her once more time, I'll screw your laser beam crap and cut your freakin' eyeballs out."

"_Staring_ at her? And how in the world would you know what I'm _staring_ at? You can't _see_ my eyes, Logan, no one can. Something you don't understand is that we're just _friends_. Because to you, all woman are just sexual objects, and you can't imagine anyone caring about someone other than just to get them in bed with you."

"You're tellin' me you're not attracted to my daughter? I'm _seen_ you with her Summers, I know what you do."

"Yes, I'm attracted to her; she's beautiful. But I'm married."

"Jean's _dead_, Scott!" Logan yelled. "She's been dead for over a year. She's _gone_."

"Just because she's dead doesn't mean she's not still my wife. She may have been someone you wanted as just another notch in your bedpost, but she was my _wife_!" Scott yelled back. "I've been in love with her since I was fourteen. I fell in love with her before I ever saw her, and she was the first person I saw when I opened my eyes again after almost a year of living blindfolded. She's not _dead_ to me, Logan, because I was in _love_ with her, I still am. And you will never get that."

"You sure Jean was in love with you?" Logan asked, his voice even and calm.

I watched silently as Scott set his jaw, clenching and unclenching his fists. Then I saw him punch Logan right in the face. Logan could have stopped him, but he didn't. He also could have hit him back, but he didn't. He just stood there and took it because he knew he deserved it. And then Scott left the infirmary.

I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything. I just sat on my hospital bed, the Professor beside me, and watched Logan's busted lip heal as he wiped the few drops of blood away.

Something far beyond my control had just happened and I didn't know how to fix it. I wasn't even sure what needed to be fixed because I didn't know exactly what the damage was. I didn't know how the conversation that had just taken place would affect Logan's and my relationship. Though that didn't worry me too badly; Logan and I could be pissed with each other one minute, and make up the next, because that's just how we were. What I was more worried about was how it would affect my relationship with Scott. He meant to the world to me. Not just because I was in love with him, but because he was one of my best friends. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, nothing made sense right then, but I had a strong feeling that I was supposed to go after him.

So I did.

I climbed out of the hospital bed and started walking towards the exit. I paused when I passed Logan and looked up at him. "I'm sorry," I whispered, "but I think this is something I need to do."

He barely nodded, but I knew he understood and so I continued out. I didn't know exactly where Scott was, but I had a pretty good feeling.

I still had on my shoes and jacket, so I didn't have to waste any time putting either on. I hurried as quickly as I could from the bottom level up to the first floor. I zipped my jacket all the way up as I left the house using the back door, and stepped out into the frost covered garden. It was mid-afternoon and the snow had stopped falling, but it was still cold enough for me to see my breath.

I stuck my hands into my pockets, realizing that my fingerless gloves were useless. I made my way across the frozen grounds, all the while hopping that I was doing the right thing. Everything seemed so confusing, even the simplest things, and I could only go by what I felt in my gut. We're taught right and wrong when we're young, but no one tells us about the gray areas. No one teaches us how to make the right decision when both people are right. And if they _did_ teach us that, I must have been sick that day at school, because I was lost. A small secret of life no one ever tells you is that one day it can be the greatest kind of Heaven, everything can be going perfectly, and you feel like you're floating on air.

And then other days, life is the worst kind of Hell imaginable. There's no way for us to change anything about it, it just is.

Walking through the garden, I wondered if _that_ was life. A gray colored mix of both Heaven and Hell on Earth. A confusing jumble of good, bad and somewhere in between.

I knew the basic principles of right and wrong, most people do, but this wasn't the same. This was harder, more complicated. Everything seemed to be those days. I felt like I didn't know anything. So I had to trust my instincts. I had to go with a gut feeling. And my gut said to find Scott.

So I did.

He was sitting on the concrete bench in front of Jean's memorial. A slab of rock with her profile etched into it. He was talking to a cold rock like it was her. And I felt my heart sink watching him. Growing up was confusing, there's so many emotions and thoughts that are new and you never seem to understand what to think. Watching Scott, I got a gut wrenching feeling that maybe Logan's question earlier had been right; was he sure that Jean was in love with him? He thought she did, I had seen them together and they seemed to have been at one point, but I had this sick nagging feeling that at some point that may have changed to some degree.

I was left watching a broken man talk to the woman who may not have felt as strongly about him. And I didn't know how to handle that. I didn't know what to do. I was confused, which just made me scared. But my instincts were telling me one thing while my brain was telling me something else, and they're what made me keep moving, walking towards him. They're what told me to sit beside him. And they're what said it was okay to touch him, that he needed it. So I did. I placed my hand lightly on his. I didn't hold it; I just gave him the contact my instincts were telling me that he needed. And just let him know that I was there.

"I miss her," he said quietly, his voice tight.

"I know," I said.

"I feel like if I let people know that, I'm weak, but if I don't show it, I feel like I'm betraying her."

"She was your wife. No one's going to think you're weak for missing her. That's natural."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I put you in the middle of this."

"You didn't put me in the middle of anything."

"No, Logan's right."

"What?" I asked. "What do you mean he's right? About what?"

He looked over at me. "That I act inappropriately around you."

I felt my eyebrow raise in question. "Scott, what are you talking about?"

"I've known Jean since I was a kid and I never had to go more than a week without her. But when she died, I didn't know what to do," he said. "Then I met you, and…I think I got too close. There's a line between friends and us. I miss holding Jean's hand, so I hold yours. I miss hugging her, so I hug you. You're _not_ Jean, no matter how much I miss her. It's not appropriate and it's not fair…to either of us. I miss Jean, but it's not right for me to project her on you."

"It's fine, I know you don't mean -"

He held up is hand and placed a finger on my lips, hushing me. "No, it's not fair because you're wonderful enough on your own. You don't deserve to live in anyone's shadow," he said quietly. I stared into his glasses, wanting to see his eyes but unable to, and losing my breath by him touching me. By how close he was. By the sound of his voice. "I'm sorry. You deserve so much better than this." He leaned in and kissed my cheek gently. "I'm sorry. You mean a lot to me, Jayden. Too much for me to keep doing this to you. And I need to step away for a little while to get myself in order. Because none of this is your fault, it's mine. I should be stronger than I have been, but I'm not. I'm sorry."

"Don't Scott," I whispered against his finger.

"Shh," he said. "Just wait for me. Please." I nodded my head slightly and he gave me a sad smile. "I'll be back for you, I promise."

And then he left.

I watched him walk away with tears in my eyes and wondered if life got any easier when you got older. Because if it got any harder, I didn't think I could take it. I watched him and felt my heart break and knew it would never be the same.

* * *

"Hey, you okay?" Logan asked, walking into my room. It had been less than an hour since my talk with Scott in the garden and I had been hiding out ever since.

"I don't know," I told him from where I lay in my bed. I wasn't sleepy but something about being in my bed seemed to make some of the pain go away. But not enough.

He stepped fully into my room and shut the door behind him. He came over to me and sat down on the edge of my bed. He pulled my feet into his lap and began massaging circles with his thumb around my ankle. "You wanna talk about it?"

"Can you fix it?"

"Don't know. You gotta tell me what's wrong first."

"Some people's punishment is death, right?"

"I guess, I don't really know."

"Well, I think mine is living."

"You thinkin' about your momma?"

"A little bit."

"And the guy you saw today?"

"Some."

"How about Cyclops?"

I let out a sigh. "Yeah."

"What'd he say when you found him?"

"How do you know I _did_ find him?"

"'Cause I know you," he said. "And when you think there's something you need to do, you do it." I curled up tighter, moving myself a little closer to him. "So, what'd he say when you found him?"

"He said he thinks he needs to stop away from our situation right now and try to figure himself out. He said you were right, he treated me in an inappropriate way and that I deserved better than that. Not much else. Then he just left."

"I'm sorry, darlin'."

"No you're not. You hated us together and you didn't want us to be friends. Now we're not. You should be pretty freakin' happy."

"Hey, I may hate him and I don't want you with him, but I want you to be happy," he said. "So if he hurt you, I can go kill him." He gave me and smirk and a wink, but I didn't smile.

"I don't even want to joke about killing. Not today."

"You didn't want me to kill that guy?"

I shrugged with one shoulder. "I don't know. I'm just confused."

"About what?"

"Everything," I said. "I don't understand why that man had to be a part of any of what I saw happened to me. I don't understand how people can be that cruel. I'm confused about it a bigger power or being exists, or if karma does, why my mother was allowed to be married, have three kids and after leaving me, still have a good life. Yeah, she may be dying now, but she lived a good sixteen years without me. Why does _she_ get to have a good life? And I don't understand _why_ I have to feel the way I do about Scott. I don't want to feel pain like this just because he needs a break to sort out our relationship. I don't understand why it has to _hurt_."

By the time I was done telling him what was confusing about _that_ day, I was crying. I was having a hard time and there was nothing I could do to hold back the tears for that day's events.

"Things ain't always easy, baby, sometimes we gotta hurt too. And I know it hurts bad and if I could take it away from you I would. But I can't. This is something you gotta do on your own. You gotta decided what _you_ think is right and follow your instincts. But you're not alone; I'm right here with you and when you're hurtin', I'm gonna be here for you."

"I can't run away from this, can I?"

"No."

"Where are you supposed to go when you're tired of standing, though? What happens when you fall down?"

"If you fall down, you do what I always tell you; you get back up. You might need to stay there for a while, but you shake it off, you get over it, and you stand back up 'cause you got dignity and you got a right to keep it. You don't let someone else take it away from you. When you're tired of standin', I'll hold you. But then you gotta get back up," he said. "All right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good," he said and moved my feet from his lap, moving like he was going to get up and leave.

"Are you going?"

"Do you want me to?" I shook my head. "Then I won't go," he said and sat back down on the bed by my feet. He leaned over and gave me a kiss on my forehead.

I wiped the last of the tears that were falling away from my cheeks with the back of my hand and tried to forget about my pain and just think about being with him. He tried so hard to make me happy and comfort me. I wanted him to know that I appreciated that. And that no matter what, I always needed him. He was my safe place to fall. The one person I could always count on. The only man in my life worth trusting my heart to. He couldn't take the pain away, no one could. But Logan was the only one who could make it better.


	19. See No Evil

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, but if anyone knows where I can get a green, remote controlled gorilla, I would really appreciate it. Much love and please enjoy!

* * *

I'm in a room, it's dark, for some reason, I'm scared. Someone's in the room with me, I can't see who it is, but somehow I know. It's my father.

"Daddy?" I ask, my voice shaking and not sounding my own. It's odd and young.

There's no reply, but I hear a shuffling in the pitch black room. I can't see him as he crawls up my bed. One of his hands pulls back my covers. And then I feel the other on my leg, moving up and under my nightgown. I try to scream, but it won't come out. I can't make a sound.

"Shh," he says, barely a whisper, as his hand moves further up and I feel tears fill my eyes. "_Hush pretty baby, don't you cry, daddy's going to take care of you tonight_," he sings quietly to the tune of 'Hush Little Baby'. And my tears flood silently down my cheeks.

This is wrong. I know it, but I didn't know what to do. So I just lay quiet and still. It feels like the pain goes on forever and I keep crying the whole time. When he's done, he pulls the covers back up around me and gives my forehead a kiss.

"Soon my dear, soon."

I wake with a pain in my stomach and tears pouring from my eyes. I ran to my bathroom, barely making it to my toilet before vomiting. I felt my stomach retch and twist. The tears that I had woken up crying had wet my hair, which stuck to my face as new tears poured down my face and I gagged and coughed and sputtered, tying to catch my breath and trying to stop vomiting. My tears ran into my mouth and I could taste their saltines, which only made me even sicker.

I had been awake for about two minutes when I head Logan come into my room. When he came into my bathroom, he grabbed a towel from my shelf and wet it. Then he wrapped it around my neck. Once I was done, he sat down in the floor beside me and pulled me over to him. He took another towel and used it to dry my cheeks, and pushed back the hair stuck to my face.

"What'd you see?" he asked. I didn't say anything; I just shook my head and tried to even out my breathing. "You all right?"

I shook my head again. "I need to talk to the Professor," I managed to choke out.

"All right, I'll go get him.'

He left to wake Xavier and I brushed my teeth quickly to try to get the bad vomit taste out of my mouth. Then I went back to my bedroom and sat down. I was still sick to my stomach and I could feel my body shaking. I didn't know what was happening to me. Everything was so confusing and all I knew how to do was curl up on my bed, pulling my knees to my chest, and let myself cry. When Logan came back with the Professor, that's how they found me.

"Jayden, how are you feeling?" Xavier asked, rolling up to my bed.

I shook my head and rocked back and forth. "Confused," I admitted quietly, tears still falling from my eyes.

He stopped right in front of me. "Was it a vision?"

I kept shaking my head. "I don't know," I said. "I really don't know."

"Lean forward, please," he said. I did as he instructed and he placed both of his hands on either side of my head. "Now just relax."

I tried to do as he said, but my body was shaking and I couldn't sit still. "I'm sorry," I apologized quietly.

"You're doing fine," he said soothingly. "Just close your eyes and breathe."

I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as evenly as I could, but I could feel waves of emotions coming off Logan and my thoughts wouldn't stop. They kept going out to him. I could feel the concern, the worry, the anger. He felt sorry for me and was angry because he couldn't do anything to help me.

It felt like forever before the Professor moved his hands and I looked up at him. His face was serious, his mouth turned down in a frown.

"What is it?" I asked.

"What was it that you saw?" he asked.

I looked at him, confused. "You didn't see it?"

"I can find no traces of a new nightmare _or_ a vision."

I shook my head. "No, I _saw_ something, I _know_ I did."

"What did you see?"

I didn't say anything; I just sat there more confused than before. How could he have missed it?

"Jayden, what'd you see?" Logan asked.

I looked up at him. "I don't know," I lied.

"Yes you do."

I looked away from him. "It was dark."

"And?"

I let out a shaking breath. "I think my father was there," I said quietly, trying to grasp what I had seen.

"What was he doin'? Why were you scared? What did you see?" Logan question, his tone frustrated.

I felt my tears fall harder as I closed my eyes tight, trying to block it all out. I didn't hear his footsteps nearing me as my cries were too loud. But I felt his rough hands on my cheeks, wiping away the tears. He lifted my face up and even though I didn't want to, I had to look in his eyes. And when I looked up, I felt his anger shift just slightly. He was still mad at himself, but for something else. For not being able to protect me when I needed him.

I watched him close his eyes and shake his head. He swore and when he looked back down at me, there were angry tears in his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me he did that to you?"

"I don't remember it."

"But that was a vision, right?" he said. "So it _did_ happen."

I shook my head. "I…I still don't remember it."

He turned to the Professor. "Why couldn't you see it?"

I watched Xavier concentrate on Logan for a moment before his expression changed. "I'm sorry…I don't know why I didn't see it."

Tears flowed like a river from my eyes and my body shook violently from my sobs and fear. I didn't understand what was happening to me and all I wanted was for things to start making sense. But nothing did. It only got more confusing.

"Why wouldn't I _remember_ that?" I asked.

"Our mind's natural defense system blocks out things we don't want to remember in order to protect us from memories of the event," the Professor said. "But it still doesn't explain why I wasn't able to see it."

"But it _did_ happen, right?" Logan asked me. I didn't say anything. "Did your father rape you or not?"

"I don't know!" I yelled, my eyesight marred by my tears. "I don't know! I don't remember!"

"Well I'm gonna find out," he said, turning and walking towards my door.

"How?"

He turned back around to face me as he paused at my doorway. "Summers is gonna take me to him."

"Logan I don't even know if it was real or not."

"It was a vision, right? So it happened; it was _real_."

"But why would he do that to me? He's my _father_."

"I don't care who he is. He ain't gonna get away with something like that."

"Please Logan, don't hurt him."

"Why not? He hurt you."

"But I don't remember it."

"Just 'cause you don't remember it don't mean it didn't happen. I know that and so should you."

"I just want to go to sleep," I cried. "I want this to stop. Just make it stop."

"And that's what I'm goin' to do."

"Killing him isn't going to make it stop!" I shouted. "Killing isn't the answer to everything! I'm tired of people dying, why do you think that solves everything?"

"Perhaps you should get some sleep and tomorrow we'll decide on the proper course of actions to take," the Professor suggested.

"The proper course of action is killin' him for puttin' his hands on _my_ daughter."

I felt my breathing begin to feel labored and my already blurred vision began to darken. "I can't breathe," I gasped through my tears.

Logan, who was in the middle of an argument with the Professor over what was the right thing to do, turned to look at me. When he saw me, he abandoned his spot by the door and came over to me. He sat on the bed behind me and pulled me against his chest.

"Can you feel my breathin'?" he asked. I nodded. "Good, now follow mine."

I tried to follow it, but I just couldn't force the air into my lungs. It burned too much. And the pain made me cry more. "I can't, it hurts," I said.

"You gotta try, baby, come on," he said, his voice sounding far away.

"Make it stop," I cried. "Please just make it stop."

"I'm tryin'," he said, his voice fading away.

And then the darkness came.

* * *

"Ah, Jayden, you're awake," Hank said as I opened my eyes.

"What happened?"

"You passed out."

I tried thinking, but my brain felt like it was sitting in a fog. "Why?"

"Logan said you had a rather disturbing vision and that you had another panic attack."

"Did he say what the vision was about?"

"No, he kept the details to himself. All he said was that you were very upset and began crying uncontrollably and that you were having difficulty breathing, and then you passed out."

I looked around, noticing that I was in the infirmary for the second time that day. "Where is Logan?"

"He went to the kitchen to get some coffee," he said. "He should be back shortly."

I pushed myself up in the hospital bed that I had practically claimed as my own. "I don't remember having a vision or a panic attack."

Hank walked over to me and sat on the stool by my bed. "You don't?" I shook my head. "What do you remember?"

I thought for a moment, the fog lifting slightly from my mind. "I uh…I think I was in my room with Logan, right after I had talked with Scott, and I fell asleep crying."

He furrowed his brow at me. "What is it that you and Scott were discussing that caused you to fall asleep crying?"

"He suggested we take a break from our relationship, whatever it is," I said. "Why wouldn't I remember my vision?"

"I'm not sure," he said. "But why did Scott suggest you take a break?"

"He said he needed some time to get himself in order," I said. "It doesn't make sense. Even if I don't remember my vision, why don't I remember what happened after I woke up?"

"Perhaps you're trying to block it out," he said. "But what is it that Scott needs to get in order?"

"I don't know, he just said he was treating me unfairly," I said. "But why would I block out what happened?"

"It's our brain's natural defense system to block out something terrible in order to protect ourselves from whatever it is we've seen or experienced," he said. "Did Scott explain _how_ he was treating you unfairly?"

I stared at him. "Why is it that I'm more concerned with the fact that I can't remember what happened to me and you're more worried about what Scott and I talked about?"

"Because I'm wondering if what you saw didn't perhaps have something to do with what he said to you?"

"I don't know, I don't remember."

"What _did_ he say to you?"

"Enough to make me cry," I said. "But it doesn't matter."

"I think it does."

"There's nothing I can do about it. He said he treated me inappropriately because he missed Jean. And because of that, he said he missed her, so he…basically substituted her for me."

"I'm sorry," he said. "That must have hurt to hear."

"Yeah, just a little bit," I said as I saw Logan walking towards the room.

"When'd you wake up?" he asked, entering the room as the door slid open with a 'whoosh'. He was holding two cups of coffee in his hands and as he neared my bed, he gave one to Hank.

"Just a little while ago," I said. "Hank told me I had a vision."

He cocked his head at me with his eyebrow. "You don't remember it?"

I shook my head. "I don't remember anything about it or anything that happened after I woke up from it," I said. "What did I see?"

"You care for McCoy knowin' about it?"

I shook my head again. "No, I don't think so. I just want to be a little less confused than what I am now. If that's possible?"

"You had a vision of your father."

I felt my mind immediately start to panic. "Is he okay? Did something happen to him?" He didn't say anything; he just stared at me silently. "Logan, did something happen to my father? Did I watch him die? What happened?"

"No, he's still alive," he answered, his voice on edge.

I let out a sigh of relief. "Don't do that to me, I thought something had happened to him." I held my head in my hands and tried to breathe calmly. But he had scared me. Although I didn't have the same relationship with my father that I did with Logan, he was still my daddy, I was still his little pumpkin, and I still loved him. "What did I see that would make me go into a panic attack? If I didn't see something happen to him, I don't understand why I would freak out?" I asked, looking up at him.

Logan looked at me darkly and I knew I had seen something serious. His eyes held a rage inside them I was rarely exposed to, and I could feel energy rolling off him in waves. Rage. Hate. Fear. Disgust. Pain. Sorrow. Unspoken apologies poured from inside him for not being able to protect me.

But protect me from what?"

"Your vision was of your father," he said. "He was touchin' you."

My confusion only increased. "So? My father's an affectionate person; he used to touch me all the time. He hugged me, kissed me, petted me. That's just how he is."

He shook his head. "No, not that way."

I cocked my eyebrow at him and stared at him for a moment. "Are you insinuating that my own father _molested_ me?"

"I'm not insinuatin' anything. You had a vision about it. You saw it and so did I."

"Wow," I said, hearing the anger in my voice. "Just how jealous are you of him, Logan? You pull me out of my own bed, stick me down here, waste Hank's time and tell me that my father, the man who raised me, the one who was there for me growing up, molested me? You have a lot of nerve."

He let out a string of swearwords that ended with a growl. "Why would I _lie_ about that?"

"Because you're jealous of him."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are; you always have been."

"Even if I was jealous of him, why would I make that up? You saw it and so did I!"

"Then why don't I remember it? Huh? Why don't I remember seeing it, or waking up after it?" I asked, my voice rising higher. "He's my freakin' _father_, he would never touch me!"

"I saw him rape you!" he yelled. "I didn't make that up and I don't want it in my head!"

"This is disgusting; I don't even want to talk about it."

"You think I do?" he asked, his eyes pitch black and staring right in mine. There was a moment where I lost my own anger inside of his, and our emotions were tangled together. He was genuinely worried about me and that feeling pulled me back from the edge. What if he was telling the truth? "The Professor was there. After I saw what your vision was, he read my mind and saw it, too. Now either it happened or we got some kind of conspiracy goin' against your father. And Chuck ain't got no reason to hate him."

I shook my head disbelievingly. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know."

"Why would my daddy do that to me?"

"Are you sure it wasn't just a nightmare? Our dreams are often made up by everything around us. Perhaps you saw a news story on the subject yesterday, or you were thinking of the vision you had back in August? You did see one of the men from the vision today, yes?" Hank asked.

I nodded numbly. "Yeah, Logan…killed him."

"You've been very stressed out and upset these past few days. It's normal for that to affect you during your sleeping as well."

"It wasn't a dream; it was a vision," Logan said.

"How do you know?"

"Because I saw it."

"Ah yeah, but you see her nightmares as well, don't you? She may know the difference between a vision and a dream, but do you? Or do you simply see what she's seen?"

"She said it was a vision," Logan said adamantly.

"But has she not been confused before? In just the past year she's confused the two three or four time, has she not? Perhaps this was the same thing."

"But the Professor -" Logan started.

"Charles only saw it after it had gone from her confused mine and filtered through you while he was trying to read your mind. Chances are he didn't _see_ a while lot, he grabbed only vital bits of information in order to piece the picture together the best he could."

"Why would I dream that, though? It's horrible."

"As I said; this week has been stressful for you. You've discovered that your biological mother is dying, you had a vision of one of the victims in the Blind Man murders, you saw a man you've been terrified of seeing and knew that Logan _killed_ him. You said that you and Scott had a conversation today that didn't end very well and upset you quite a bit. And aside from the panic attack Logan said you had only about half an hour ago, you had one this morning as well. Adding to that the fact that you're parents are getting divorced and you've not been very happy with your physical mutations, I would say your mind is trying to deal with everything at once and your problems are crossing over in your subconscious while you sleep."

I blinked at him. "What?"

"From today's events alone, you saw the man you had seen in your vision this summer who had sexually abused you, yes?"

"Yeah."

"And Scott, a man you trust very much, hurt you today, yes?"

"Yeah."

"Then knowing that, your subconscious may have just been relaying the events back, but in a dream. A man you trust hurt you, which could also be acquainted with your father, yes?"

"I guess."

"Then if it was acquainted with him, which could possibly be why you saw him hurting you the way he did. Perhaps your mind was adding a physicality to the dream to represent the emotional damage you've suffered that can't be seen? You feel betrayed by some of the men in your life, and so your brain will act that out," he said. "And it could be possible that the emotions you felt after waking were so harsh, you couldn't quite differentiate between a dream and a vision because you were so wound up in the pain of the images."

"Or it really happened," Logan said.

I shook my head. "I like Hank's explanation better."

"What if it's not the truth, though?"

"There can be a test done to determine if it happened or not, but they're very personal and it would be up to Jayden to decide if she's willing to have them done."

"I don't want to,"

"What?" Logan asked, looking at me. "Why don't you wanna know if he hurt your or not?"

"What would be the point?"

"To know if I should kill him or not!" he barked.

"You're not going to kill him, even if he did do it."

"And why do you think that?"

"Because he's my father."

"That didn't seem to mean too much to him when he was hurtin' you."

"I wouldn't know, because I don't remember, and I would like to keep it that way."

"Why?"

"Because we forget some things for a reason, don't we? There are some things that happened to you that you don't want to remember, isn't there? If I have the opportunity to keep a bad memory out of my mind, why shouldn't I take it?" I asked. "I have too much on me to deal with this right now. Mentally, I can't _handle_ it. So I'm not going to. And I'm asking you to respect that. I know you want to take care of me and protect me, but right now you need to help protect my sanity, because I can't take anything else. I _can't_."

"So you just wanna forget about it?"

"No, what I want is for things to start making sense, because I'm _so_ tired. But they're not going to."

"Why don't you go to sleep? You can stay down here and Logan can stay with you if you want. And I'll just be in the lab."

"Why should I even try to go back to sleep? So I can have another nightmare and wake up to have another panic attack?" I asked bitterly.

"If you can get some sleep now, when you wake up I'll discuss some options to help you deal with your panic attacks."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Medications for anti-anxiety. There's quite a few that could help with not only your attacks but also with the stress you're going through," Hank said. "But why don't you get some sleep now?"

I nodded. "Okay."

He gave me a kind, warm smile. "Good," he said as he stood. He bent down and gave my forehead a kiss. "Rest now sweetheart, we'll decide what to do what you wake up."

Then he left, and Logan and I were in the infirmary, silence filling the room around us like a thick, choking fog.

"What time is it?" I asked quietly after a few minutes had passed without either of us saying a word.

"After three," he said and moved from where he was standing beside me to the chair Hank had been sitting in and sat down.

"You don't have to stay here with me if you don't want to. I know you don't sleep well in that chair."

"I won't sleep at all if I can't watch you and make sure you're all right," he admitted, his voice giving away how tired he was, even if he looked wide awake.

"Well," I said, "I'm _not_ all right. I'm seriously screwed up."

"Yeah, I think that one's my fault," he said with the faintest hint of a smile.

"Do things _ever_ stop being complicated or does it just get worse?"

"Life's as good as you make it, darlin'."

"But I'm so confused."

"I know."

I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No, you don't. Because this is different than your kind of confused. I know who I am…I just don't know anything else," I said. "I don't know what I believe, I don't understand why thing have to happen the way they do, I don't know why people have to be how they are. I feel like I'm just this lost little girl in the middle of the ocean, with no land in sight. I'm stuck and scared and confused." I let out a sigh. "And I don't know what to do."

"You get back up," he said.

I shook my head again. "I can't; I'm too tired." He took my hand and held it tightly in his eyes. He leaned in to me and I saw that the darkness was gone from his eyes and he gave me the look that he saved for me alone and I felt tears threaten to fall at the sight of it.

"Then sleep," he said. "I'm here."

I felt my top lip quiver as I fought off the tears that wanted to fall. I didn't have enough strength to cry and I wanted to seem stronger than I felt. I took a deep breath, attempting to gain control over my voice. "I love you," I said. "I really do."

"I know you do," he said and gave my hand a small, light kiss. "And I love you, too, baby."

I lay down in the bed, keeping hold of Logan's hand tightly, and closed my eyes. I felt his other hand on my forehead, stroking the hair out of my face, and everything seemed to fade away into his touch.

Logan's and my relationship was far from normal. And it never would be normal, because that wasn't us. But we worked. We understood each other. There were times when I needed him to hold me and tell me that everything would be all right. Or that he was there, he would protect me and I was safe. Other times I just needed to feel his hand on mine and not speak a single word. He had taught me the importance of silence and when we were quiet, I could feel all of his emotions running through me, and we didn't have need for words.

"I'm sorry if I upset you tonight; I didn't mean to," I mumbled, already falling into sleep.

I felt him lean in and place gentle, warm kisses on each of my eyelids. "You didn't upset me, I just worry about you. But I'm here now and there ain't nothing to worry about. So just go to sleep, and I'll be right here."

And sometimes, when we did speak, he always knew exactly what I needed to hear.

* * *

Some time around five in the morning I woke up, frightened by the dark, and made Logan get in bed with me so I wouldn't be scared. We only slept for about three hours before the smell of coffee and pancakes woke us.

Hank had made breakfast.

Logan sat at the end of my bed, I sat at the top, and Hank sat in the chair, facing both of us. He had his pen and notebook, ready to take notes while we ate.

"Okay, let's start with your symptoms. How do you feel most days?" he asked.

"Tired," I answered, biting into my banana pancake.

"Yes, but _emotionally_ how do you feel?"

"Confused."

"Anything else?" he asked, looking up and peering at me over the glass perched on the end of his nose.

I shrugged. "I don't know…you know me; I can go from happy to pissed, to crying, and back to happy again in less than thirty minutes. I'm a moody person."

"But on a day to day basis what's the emotion you feel most often?"

"Well, these past few weeks I've been mostly sad or pissed, and felt a feeling of general uselessness. I don't understand what my point in life is, and I really don't understand the point in death, which seems to be following me everywhere I go. I'm angry at my parents, my mother and myself. So I guess on a day to day basis the emotion I feel most often is either anger or sadness. It could be a tie."

"Okay, so now physically, aside from being tired, how do you usually feel?" he asked, making note of what I had just said.

"Aside from the panic attack thing?"

"Yes, I already have that down."

I took another bite of my pancake as I thought. "Sometimes I get a real tight feeling in my chest, like my lungs won't fill up with enough air, no matter what I try. I've been having a hard time getting to sleep because of all the visions and nightmares, but all day all I think about is going to sleep."

"What about your appetite? Has it changed at all?"

"Does it look like it has?" I joked, biting into a piece of bacon.

He laughed. "Not to me, no, but does it to you?"

I shrugged again. "I guess. I mean, sometimes I don't feel like eating anything at all, and then I'll want to eat everything I see, even if I'm not hungry."

He asked a few more questions and then I watched him finish up his notes. When he was done, he took off his glasses and let out a sigh. "It sounds like you have depression and anxiety disorders, like I thought."

"Can you fix it?"

"It may take a while to completely 'fix it', as you say, but there are medicines you can take that can help you tremendously."

"What kind of medicines?"

"Anti-depression and anti-anxiety."

"And they'll help?"

"Absolutely."

"How soon?"

"A couple of weeks to a month before they really start taking affect."

"Okay then. I'll do that."

He smiled at me. "Good, I'll get to work on that," he said. "I just have to ask a few more questions: Do you know of anyone in your family that's had any serious medical conditions?"

Logan and I gave him identical looks. "Yeah, my mom has brain cancer and Logan's probably never had a cold in his life."

Hank looked up at me from his notebook and gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry, I forgot."

I smiled. "Don't worry about it."

"Well, I have one more question and then I'll see what the best choice for you will be," he said. "I have to ask, even though I know you would never even consider it, but have you ever contemplated or attempted to commit suicide?" He gave a small laugh as he looked down at his notes and made a comment on the page. "That's a 'no'."

"Uh, well…" I said timidly.

The laugh was cut off from his throat as he looked up at me. "What? Have you thought about it before?"

I looked over at Logan, who offered me a shrug. "You're on your own, kid," he said.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," I said sarcastically. I looked back to Hank and smiled at him sheepishly. "Well, uh, I don't think about it anymore, and that's the important part, right?"

"Jayden, why on earth would you even _think_ about something like that?"

"If you think that's bad, you should hear about what she actually tried," Logan muttered, shoving a whole pancake into his mouth.

"Shut up," I hissed, smacking him on the arm with the heavy end of my fork. He took it away and smacked my arm back.

"You've tried hurting yourself before?" Hank asked.

I turned my attention back to him as I took my fork away from Logan. "Once," I said. "And it didn't work, so it doesn't matter."

"I'd say it certainly does."

"Hank, it was back in the spring -"

"The _spring_? You attempted to hurt yourself while you were _here_?"

I let out a deep breath. "It was when Logan was gone, and I thought he was dead," I tried to explain. "I was depressed and I wasn't thinking right."

"If you were feeling _that_ depressed, why didn't you speak to someone about it? You could have gone to Charles, Scott or even me to talk. Why would you let it get that out of hand?"

"It wasn't something I had thought about for a long time or preplanned, Hank. It just happened. I woke up one morning and realized that was going to be it; I was living my life without Logan and I hated it. I tried drowning myself and it didn't work."

"Well obviously not," he said. "But why did you never say anything about it before?"

"It's not exactly something that I'm proud of."

"Perhaps you're not proud of it, but you seem to speak about it in a very glib way."

"I'm not trying to make light of it, I understand it's really serious. But you have to understand that I didn't care right then. I was in a bad place and thought that would solve my problems. I was wrong. I know that and I'm not going to try it again."

"If you did it the first time, how am I to know you won't try it again?"

I looked at him hard. "You're not going to give me any medication now that you know that, are you?"

"Most medications are show to increase thoughts of suicide. If you've tried it before, I can't allow you to be on a medication that may cause you to attempt it once more. It didn't work the last time, but who's to say that the next time you try it, it won't?"

"Because I'm telling you I won't try it again. I don't _want_ to die, they thought of that scares me, I don't want to rush it any faster than the way it's already going. You can trust me on that."

"It has nothing to do with trusting you, Jayden, although I am quite shocked you never mentioned anything about it before. It has to do with the pact that it would be personally and professionally irresponsible to allow you to go on a medicine that may affect your brain chemicals and cause you to not only contemplate suicide, but attempt it once again."

"So what am I supposed to do about panic attacks then?"

"I want to help you, Jayden."

"Oh, believe me, I want you to help me, too," I said. "I don't want to be like this anymore. I was unconscious twice yesterday; I'm pretty sure that's not good for my brain."

He gave me a weak smile. "I'm sorry this is so hard for you, but I just don't think -"

"Give her the pills, Hank. I'm gonna be watchin' her this time; I ain't gonna let her do anything."

"Logan, as I said, professionally it would be irresponsible for me to allow her to take a medication that could increase her chances of attempting, if not succeeding in, committing suicide. As a doctor I can't do that. And as her friend, I won't. If I gave her something that may cause her to hurt herself, I would never forgive myself. I would be responsible for her wellbeing, and with her history, however small it may be, of attempting to kill herself, I simply won't allow her to take it."

"Can you give her anything? What about sleepin' pills? Maybe if she could get some sleep at night, she wouldn't be so tired and stressed out during the day."

"That I can do, yes, but I would prefer her to find a regular schedule that she can go by so that she won't learn to depend on sleeping pills. I don't want them to become a crutch for her."

"They won't," I said.

He looked at me. "For a lot of people, they are. You'd be surprised to know how many people are truly addicted to them," he said. "I'll start you out on a weeks worth and then next week we can discuss where we want to go from there. Deal?"

I nodded slowly. "Yeah, deal."

He gave me a bigger smile. "Good," he said as he stood. "Finish your breakfast and I'll go see what I can find for you."

I watched him leave as I took a bite of my banana pancakes. "Well, that went well," I said sarcastically.

Logan looked over at me and gave me a half smirk. "This is what you get for bein' my daughter."

"What? Suicidal tendencies and the refusal of drugs?"

He smirk turned into a smile. "Pretty much."

"How did I get that from you? You can't kill yourself, so it's pointless to try, and drugs have no effect on you, so they're always pointless."

"Yeah, but this is when your crazy side comes out and bites you in the backside. And you got that from me."

"Oh yeah, because my mother is just the epitome of sane," I joked, rolling my eyes.

He laughed, biting into a link of sausage. "Good point, darlin'."

I didn't say anything for a moment as I ate and thought. But soon the silence was too much for me. "Am I ever going to get better?"

"Yeah, you are."

I could see him look at me from the corner of my eye. "Why are you so sure?"

He leaned over to me. "'Cause I'm gonna take care of you."

I didn't look at him; I just kept staring down at my plate, still thinking. "But this…this is inside my head; you can't protect me from that."

"I'm gonna take care of you and I'm gonna keep you safe."

I finally looked up at him. "How can you save me from myself?

He looked into my eyes and I wished he wouldn't. They weren't my eyes. They were strange and new and wrong. I didn't want him to see that as me. Because it wasn't me. But no matter how much I wanted to look away, I couldn't. Something about his stare had always captivated me. And so I had to keep looking at him.

"I want you to listen to me, and listen good, all right?" I nodded slightly. "I don't care what happens to you; I'm always gonna be here for you and I'm gonna take care of you. And if you need me to come save you, I don't care who from, you or someone else, I'll figure out a way to save you. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I hear you."

I had heard him say it a dozen times. He promised to take care of me, to be there for me, and every time I heard the words, I soaked them in, savoring them. He was the only person to ever make that promise to me, and he knew that. So despite how many times he said it, his words never lacked conviction. Every time he looked at me, looked into my eyes, and promised me that, it felt like everything could get better again. Because I knew with Logan there with me, I wasn't the same weak little girl I had once been. Even though she reared her ugly head every once in a while and I ended up acting like a sniveling little brat at times, he proved to me that that wasn't all I was.

"Why do people have to be scared?" I asked.

"'Cause a little fear can keep us from doin' something real stupid," he said. "And sometimes we gotta hurt to appreciate when the pain stops. We gotta be depressed so that when things that makes us happy come along, we don't take it for granted. And sometimes we gotta fall down to know we're strong enough to get back up." He looked over at me and gave me a wink. "You're gonna get there, darlin', you just gotta make it through this. And I know you can." I rested my head on his shoulder and he gave the top of it a quick kiss. "Stick with me, kid, we'll get through this."

I let out a sigh. "Okay," I said. "I'll stick with you."

I was scared out of my mind about what was happening to me. I was so confused all the time and I didn't understand why. But Logan's promises soothed my troubled heart.

And I thought I was starting to see the light.

I thought things were finally going to get better.

I thought maybe I might get the happiness I so desperately longed for.

But I thought wrong.


	20. Secrets

Disclaimer: Nothing's changed, I really don't own the rights to anything. But I love you, so please don't sue? Enjoy, ya'll!

* * *

The rest of the month passed by, with Thanksgiving no more than a blurred memory of a food coma as I fell asleep with my head in Logan's lap as we watched a marathon of 'Myth Busters' in the den. The next week was school and the beginning of December. It was also the end of my first year at the school. It had been an interesting year, to say the least.

It was the first Saturday of the month and visiting day at the school. But by noon, almost all of the families had called and canceled. Major snow storms were hitting all over the country and hardly anyone had been able to find a flight out. So that meant everyone was free to roam around the house because of the cancellations.

I was in the kitchen, eating lunch before leaving to go on a field trip with my class. I was in the middle of eating a roast beef sandwich Logan had made me when Scott came in.

"You're pretty dressed up for a Saturday, are you going somewhere?" he asked.

"Yeah, my class is visiting a prison as part of a field trip today."

"A prison? Why?"

"We're supposed to watch an autopsy on one of the prisoners that died and then we're sitting in on an interview with another one of the prisoners, who's a convicted serial killer."

"Are you sure you want to be eating before you do that?"

I smiled. "Yeah, it's not going to bother me."

"Have you ever seen an autopsy before?"

"Not really. I've seen people die, seen myself hacking people up and I've had two different visions where I've seen Logan being dissected like a frog," I said, popping a chip into my mouth. "I think I can handle it."

"Good. I was never able to sit through one," he said and then we both fell quiet.

Ever since our discussion in the garden where he said he needed a break, our conversations had been short and awkward. I didn't know what to say to him anymore and even though I longed for our relationship to go back to how it was before, I didn't know how to fix it. So I was left having to trust him and have faith in him being able to sort himself out. But I knew that even if we were ever friends again, our relationship would never be the same. Too much had been said, and there was no way we could go back to the way we were.

He was making a sandwich, his back to me, when suddenly he turned, facing me and holding a knife covered in mustard in one hand. "I'm sorry about last night," he said. His words were a blurted apology and caught me by surprise."

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Last night, I'm really sorry about it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Scott. I don't even know what last night was."

"You don't remember?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

I shook my head. "No, should I?"

I could feel a mix of emotions coming off him as his body visibly relaxed. There was confusion, embarrassment, nervousness, relief and others that were so mixed and twisted together, I couldn't figure out what they were.

He shook his head, shaking away his furrowed brow and gave me an unconvincing smile. "No, you just came in my room is all, it wasn't really anything big."

"I came in your room? When?"

"It was about two in the morning."

"I don't remember that," I said. "I don't even know if I want to ask what I did."

"Nothing," he said. "I figured you were just sleep walking, or something. I know Hank has you on sleeping pills now. I thought it might be a side effect."

"I guess it is, I don't know. But I've been doing things at night I don't remember. I started doing that before Hank put me on pills." I shook my head. "I don't know. I think I have a few screws loose in my head, or something," I said. "So what exactly did I do? I mean, I didn't like, eat toothpaste or anything, did I?"

He smiled at me again, and it was more genuine this time, as he shook his head. "No," he said. "You just asked for a book."

I felt my expression change before I could control myself. He was lying. It sounded almost convincing, his tone was unwavering and it would be like me to ask to borrow a book, even while I was asleep. But he was lying. There was something in his voice, almost unnoticeable, but it was there, and I could feel it in my gut. The only problem was, I didn't know _why_ he was lying. I couldn't imagine what I could have possibly done that would make him lie about it.

And there was one other thing.

"Uh, just a little confused here…actually, more than a little, but whatever, I said. "If I just asked for a book, why are _you_ apologizing? I'm the one who came in your room at two in the morning and woke you up; shouldn't _I_ be the one apologizing?"

I had caught him, but all he did was shrug it off and give me another forced smile. "You asked for a book I didn't have. It was a medical book, you thought Jean might have had a copy of it, but she didn't. I guess you had your field trip on your mind, or something," he said, flashing me another smile. "I'm sorry I didn't have it for you. I didn't realize you were going to be sitting in on an autopsy and probably needed it."

It was a nice story. Scott was good at thinking on his feet and was also good at lying. Just not good enough. Because my intuition said it was all a lie and something more serious than that had happened. I just couldn't remember _what_.

I nodded and forced my own smile at him. "Don't worry about it; I'm sure I really don't need it. I was probably just thinking about it last night when I went to bed and was thinking about it when I was asleep," I said, knowing it wasn't true. "It's nothing you need to apologize for."

"Yeah, well, good luck today."

"Thanks," I said, carrying my empty plate to the sink. I rinsed it off and turned to him beside me. "What was the name of the book? I don't have to leave for another half an hour or so, maybe Hank has it and I might be able to flip through it and take some notes before I leave."

"You know, I don't even remember it," he said, not looking at me. "I just knew it was a book Jean didn't have. You might be able to look through Hank's books and see if anything looks familiar, but I just can't remember the name. It was some book on anatomy, I think." He placed the knife he had been using for his sandwich into the sink beside my plate. "Sorry."

I gave him a final smile before turning to leave. "It's fine, I'm sure it'll come to be sooner or later," I said as I was walking away. "Bye Scott."

"Yeah, bye. Be careful and have fun." I felt him give himself a mental slap. I was going to witness an autopsy and sit in on an interview with an admitted serial killer; fun wasn't really the goal of my trip. "Or whatever," he said. "Just, you know, be careful."

Something had definitely happened because suddenly, he had become the flustered one.

I left the kitchen and went up to my room to finish getting ready. I had to put on my shoes, my leather jacket, pulled my hair into a pony tail and wrapped a scarf around my neck. I couldn't find my gloves and after ten minutes of looking for them, I realized they were probably in Logan's room. So I grabbed my bag and left my bedroom for his. I walked down the hall to his door and didn't bother knocking before walking in.

"Hey Logan, have you seen my gloves?" I asked, letting myself in, as I usually did. When I stepped into his room I saw him and Marie sitting on his bed. "Oh, sorry, I was just looking for my gloves. I'll let you get back to…whatever you were doing."

"Don't leave; Logan's just helpin' me with my homework," Rogue said. "I have to write a paper on the Civil War and I was just gettin' him to help me with it."

"Well I'm just getting ready to leave and I can't find my gloves. I thought I may have left them in here."

"Yeah, I put 'em in my closet. Let me find 'em for you," Logan said, standing from the bed.

I looked at Marie for a moment before allowing my gaze to follow Logan and I was amazed by the fact that my stomach no longer lurched at the sight of her. I had been trying really hard to be nicer to her, and was actually making some progress. But usually I still got sick or angry at the sight of her with Logan. Surprisingly, my stomach felt fine and I wasn't angry. I wasn't sure if it was because I was starting to get better or if it was because my mind was too preoccupied by my thoughts of Scott and what had actually happened the night before.

"Where are you goin'?" she asked.

I stuck my hands into the pockets of my jacket and looked back to her. "I'm going with my class to visit a prison."

"Why?"

I let out a sigh. It was the forth time I had to explain where I was going that morning. "We're going to be watching the prison coroner perform a live autopsy and sit in on an interview with a prisoner."

"Ew," she said, "I couldn't do that."

"Well if I ever want to work as a forensic scientist, then I have to. I'll be taking samples from dead people for a living."

"I can't watch horror movies, and I know they're fake. I couldn't watch someone cut open a body for real."

"The sight ain't too bad; it's the smell that makes you sick," Logan said, coming out of his closet holding up my gloves in his hand. He gave them to me. "When do you gotta leave?"

I looked down at my watch. "About twenty minutes."

"You need me to drop you off somewhere?"

"No. My friend Bashar is coming to pick me up."

"He's pickin' you up here?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"I'm meeting him at the gate, so don't worry about it."

"Do you need any money?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

He pulled out his wallet and handed me a twenty dollar bill. "You think that's enough?"

"Yeah, probably."

"You want me to go outside with you while you wait?"

"No, I'll be fine. I have to go talk to Hank first anyway."

"All right, be careful."

"I will be," I said, leaning in to give him a hug. As I pulled away, I gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Love you."

He kissed me on the top of my head. "Right back at'cha, kid."

"Bye furry-face, I'll see you when I get back."

"Yeah, bye darlin'. Be careful," he said again.

"I will be," I assured him once more as I moved to leave. "Bye Rogue, good luck on your paper."

"Thanks, bye," she said before I left.

I left Logan's room and then made my way down to Hank's lab. Since it was visiting day, he was pretty much banished to the lower levels until _all_ of the visits were over or canceled. I hated it had to be like that for him. He was one of the sweetest, most gentle people I had ever met and yet he was judged because of how he looked. It wasn't right.

"Ah, Jayden, I was just thinking of you," Hank said as I walked into the lab. "I have something for your trip."

"What?" I asked. He walked to his desk and removed two objects from the top drawer then he walked over and handed them to me. I looked down at them, confused. "Vick's vapor rub and Altoids?" He nodded. "Why?"

"Before the autopsy, put some of the vapor rub under your nose to keep the smell of the body from overwhelming you, and put a couple of the Altoids in your mouth to keep the taste from getting in your mouth. It won't keep the scent away completely, but it will certainly help."

I smiled at him. "Thanks."

He smiled back. "I remember my first autopsy. I wish someone would have warned me about the smell before I went in. That's one smell I could never quite get used to."

"Do you _want_ to get used to it, though?"

"No," he said. "And I'm very thankful that I never had to."

I put what he had given me into my bag and went over to his desk to sit in the chair in front of it. He followed and sat in the chair opposite mine, behind the actual desk.

"Can the sleeping pills you gave me cause me to sleepwalk?"

"It's not one of the most common side effects, but I'm sure they could. Why? Have you been waking in strange places?"

I smiled. "Not quite," I said, turning myself back and forth in the swivel chair. "Scott said that I came into his room last night and asked for a book."

"Did he say what book?"

"He said he forgot the name of it."

"And you don't believe him?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You think he was refusing to tell you the title on purpose?"

I laughed. "No, I think I didn't ask for a book."

"What do you think you were doing, then?"

"I haven't got a clue. I just know it was something more…serious than that."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because my intuition says it was…is…whatever," I said. "You should have seen him; he was a nervous wreck and stumbling over his words. Basically, he was acting like _me_."

"And you have no idea what you could have possibly done to cause him to react that way?"

"Nope. As far as I knew, I fell asleep watching a special on the History Channel about ancient Rome and woke up this morning with the TV off. I assumed I had either gotten up sometime during the night and turned it off, or maybe Logan had. Sometimes he comes in my room when he can't sleep and watches me." I shook my head. "But…that's it. I just thought I slept the whole night, or just about anyway," I said. "But you know I've been waking up after having weird visions or dreams, or whatever, and the going back to sleep and not remembering them when I wake up in the morning. Maybe that's what happened?"

"I don't know. But as long as you're not wandering off too far or injuring yourself, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"That's easy to say when you're not missing chunks from your memory," I said with a slight smile.

He smiled back. "Yes, but perhaps there are things you would rather _not_ remember," he said. "When I was living here, just before I went off to the university, I went through a short faze where I would sleep walk at night. I would wake and find myself in the kitchen, my hand in a half eaten box of cookies, or in the gym, curled up on one of the yoga mats. One morning I remember waking to find myself in the lady's locker room. Fortunately I got out before anyone could see me. I haven't walked in my sleep since then," he said. "At least not to my knowledge, anyway."

I laughed. "So you're saying I'm better off not remembering what I've done because I may have walked in on someone in the guy's shower room?"

"Precisely."

I nodded. "Good to know," I said and stood from the chair. "Well Hank, I have to go. My ride should be here soon and I'm going to spend my day watching a dead person get cut open to have his organs removed."

He stood and walked from behind his desk to stand in front of me. His large frame loomed over mine, making me feel suddenly very short and small. "What will you be doing this evening?" he asked.

"Aside from trying to wash the stench of dead people off me?"

"Yes, aside from that," he said with a smile.

I shrugged. "Probably nothing. I finished the rest of my homework this morning," I said. "Why?"

"I was wondering if you would like to accompany me to a viewing of 'Bringing up Baby' in the den."

"Absolutely."

"Good, it's a date," he said, bending down to give me a kiss on my cheek. "Be careful today, sweetheart, and I'll see you when you get home."

"All right, bye Hank," I said before turning and leaving. I heard him say 'bye' to me just before I left.

I made my way back upstairs to the first floor and pulled on my gloves before going outside. Bashar wasn't supposed to be there for about fifteen minutes but I thought the cold air might do me some good. Maybe clear my head and help me think straighter.

The moment I stepped out the door and had it closed behind me, I felt something cold hit me in the face. As I was trying to wipe the snow from my eyes, I heard a familiar laugh.

"Bobby Drake, I'm going to kill you! And I'm so not exaggerating!"

"Oh come on, I've been waiting for someone to come out all day."

"Yeah, because it would be a shame to waste your time doing some productive."

"I know, right?" he said as I made my way over to him. "You have to admit that was a pretty good hit, though."

"Considering you've been 'waiting all day', it could have been better," I said, still trying to wipe the cold slush from my face.

"Did it get in your eyes?"

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Sorry," he said. "Here, let me help."

He dried his bare hands on the ends of his jacket and dusted the left over snow from around my eyes and cheeks. His hands were freezing, but I didn't say anything because he was trying to be nice. Even if he had been the one to hit me with the snowball in the first place.

"Thanks," I said, my face now feeling numb from the cold. "But you're still going to pay for that."

He laughed. "I'll buy you a cookie at lunch on Monday."

I smiled. "Deal."

"Is someone picking you up for your field trip today?"

"Yeah, they're picking me up outside the gates, so I have to go wait for them."

"Do you want me to wait with you?"

"If you want." He started walking towards the gate and I bent down to scoop up some snow and formed it into a ball. "Hey, Bobby," I called. He turned around and I threw the snowball right in his face.

And then I laughed.

"Okay, you don't get a cookie on Monday!" he said, scooping up another ball of snow and throwing it at me.

For the next ten minutes, we proceeded to chase each other around the yard, throwing snowballs at one another until we had made it to the front gates. We left the yard for the driveway and he dusted the snow off the sidewall that held the flowers and we both sat to wait for my ride as I tried to catch my breath.

"Does the cold really not bother you?" I asked, shaking the snow from my hair as I took it out of its ponytail.

"No," he said, "I love it." He looked at me as I began pulling my hair back up. "Why don't you ever wear your hair down anymore?"

I paused, my hands pulling my hair up and my ponytail holder in my mouth. "Uh," I said, taking the holder and finally pulling my hair back up. "I don't know. I guess it's because I don't really like the way it looks now. I'm still not used to it being this color and I can't dye over it."

"It doesn't look bad. It kind of suits you."

I smiled. "Thanks Bobby," I said. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah."

"What would make a guy completely lie about something?"

"Well…it depends, I guess. If he was going to get in trouble he might lie to get out of it. I don't know. Why?"

"Scott said I came in his room and asked to borrow a book last night, but he was lying."

"Why would he lie about you coming into his room?" he asked. "_How_ could he lie about that? Wouldn't you know if you went in there or not?"

"Not really. I've been having some problems with my memory ever since I was hit by lightening. Hank said it was normal to have some memory loss, but I was under the impression that it would only last a few days and then go away. Not a few months," I said. "But that's not what he was lying about. I'm sure I went into his room. I just don't think it had anything to do with a book."

"So what do you think happened?"

"I don't know. That's why I was asking you. What would have to happen to make him lie about it once he realized I didn't remember it?"

"I have no idea."

I let out a sigh. "Great. You were my last hope."

He laughed. "Sorry," he said. We both fell quiet for a while as I checked my watch and looked up and down the street for any sign of Bashar's car. "So what's the deal with you and Scott, anyway?"

I looked over at him. "There _is_ no deal. We're just friends."

"Bull."

"Excuse me?"

"That's a load of bull. You two are like the worst sappy romantic movie couple ever. You're both giggly, goggley eyed and blushing around each other," he said. "It's really disgusting."

I laughed and bumped his shoulder with my playfully. "You're a jerk," I said with a smile.

"I'm just telling the truth," he said. "The two of you always make everyone sick."

"Apparently even him," I muttered, looking up and down the road for any sign of a car once again.

"Why do you say that?"

I looked back to him and shrugged my shoulder. "Because he's 'taking a break' from a relationship that never existed. I thought we were just friends," I said, shaking my head. "Why do guys have to be so…"

"Confusing?"

"I was actually going to say stupid, but confusing works, too."

He laughed. "I really don't know. Probably the same reason why girls are complicated and frustrating."

"Oh, we're like that because of you. It's our way of getting back at you for being stupid and confusing."

"So you do it on purpose?"

"Absolutely. We are the smarter sex, you know?"

"I guess you have to be to make up for the fact that you're the weaker ones." I punched him on the shoulder. "Ow!" he said, laughing.

"Who's the weaker one now?" I asked.

"It was a joke."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Another thing; guys are all jerks, too."

"That we can't help; it's in our DNA."

"Obviously."

Our conversation waned as the sound of some of the kids running through the yard filled the air. We both sat, listening to them until their voices faded as they ran to the back of the mansion, chasing each other.

"Uh…do you have any plans for next Saturday?" he asked.

"I don't think so. Why?"

"I have to go Christmas shopping. I don't have a problem with Storm; I can just get her some plant thing and she'll be happy. But I have no idea what to buy Rogue now that we're not dating. I thought you might be able to help."

"I can try, but I suck at being a girl that way. I _never_ know what to buy people."

"Yeah, but you're a girl and you're sort of her age and you can't possibly be any worse at it than me," he said. "I really have no idea how to buy her a gift that says she's my friend and absolutely nothing else."

"Why do you care what it says?"

He looked over at me. "Because Logan would kill me if it wasn't _strictly_ platonic."

I thought about it for a moment and realized he was probably right. "Yeah, sorry about that," I said.

He gave me a smile. "It's not your fault."

"No, but I still feel bad about it."

"Then make it up by going shopping with me next week."

"I can't guaranty that I'll actually be of any use, but I'll try the best I can."

"Do you know how to ice skate?"

"Uh, yeah… I mean, I haven't been in a few years, but I used to be pretty good at it. Why?"

"I thought we might go after we get done shopping," he said. "I mean, if you want? I thought it might be kind of fun since you don't seem to be doing much other than going to school, doing homework and training in the Danger Room."

"It only seems that way because that _is_ all I do," I joked. "I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I have no life."

He laughed. "We're students; we're not supposed to have lives."

"You're not just a student, though. You're part of the X-Men, too."

"You're training to be one."

"That's somehow not quite as hard as actually being one, I'm sure."

"Is Logan going to ever let you join?"

"Yeah, I think he will. I just don't know if I'm ready," I said as I saw Bashar's car turn the corner and begin driving towards us. I stood up. "There's my ride. Thanks for staying out here with me. I'll see you later."

"Yeah, no problem," he said. "Bye."

I walked to the car and looked over my shoulder to see Bobby walking back towards the house. So I bent down and made one final scoop of snow to form into a snowball. "Hey Bobby," I called. He turned around and I threw it right in his face once again.

"Yeah," he said, wiping snow from his face. "You're definitely not getting a cookie on Monday."

I continued laughing as I opened the back door to Bashar's car and climbed into the back seat. Sam and Amanda were with him.

"Okay, you never mentioned that you live in a mansion," Bashar said as we began driving.

"It's a boarding school," I said.

"It's still a freakin' mansion. And you never said you lived here."

I laughed. "What can I say? My Uncle Chuck's rich," I joked.

"Is he single, too?" Amanda asked.

"Yeah, if you don't mind sixty year old men with like, two hundred kids."

"Is it even physically _possible_ to have two hundred kids?" Sam asked.

"They're his students; he calls them his kids."

"I don't care," Amanda said. "If he's rich and half way good looking, I could be anyone's mom. Is he good looking?"

"He kind of looks like Captain Pichard."

"Who?"

"Never mind."

"So does this mean the next party is going to be at your house?" Bashar asked.

"Not unless you want my dad there."

"You're dad scares me," he said.

"He has that effect on a lot of people."

"I think he's hot," Amanda said.

"Yeah, he also has that effect."

"Is he single?"

"No," I said. "He has a girlfriend."

The words sounded odd and I hoped that karma was listening; because there was no hint of distaste in my voice.

"But is she attractive?"

"Do you think he would date an ugly chick?"

"Do _you_ think she's pretty, though?"

I felt like biting off my tongue and swallowing it rather than answering the question. "Yeah," I said, managing to keep the acidic tone from my voice. "I think she's really pretty, actually."

I didn't understand why that was so hard for me to admit. I had always thought Rogue was gorgeous. I certainly didn't doubt Logan's taste in women. He always seemed to pick absolutely beautiful women to fall in love with. And it wasn't like Marie had a horrible personality, either. She was nice and had always been friendly with me. And yet I hated her. For no _real_ reason.

Life was just too complicated for me.


	21. Daddy's Little Girl

Disclaimer: Same as always; I don't own a lick. Pretty sad, really.

* * *

When we got to the prison and met up with the rest of the class, we went in. First we had to go through a metal detector that apparently hated my leather jacket. Then we had someone search us with the wand metal detectors while all of our bags were searched. I didn't like people going through my things, it made me nervous, but it was supposed to be for safety purposes, so I didn't say anything. Until the guard who was going through my bag roughly tossed my sunglasses back into my bag, and I told him to be careful.

"Sorry," he said insincerely. "I forgot that vampires hate the sun."

"I'm not a vampire," I snapped, grabbing my bag.

"So are you teeth just a fashion statement, then?" he asked sarcastically.

I ran my tongue over the sharp points of my eyeteeth. Although I had long since stopped biting myself when I spoke, I still wasn't completely used to them yet. And it was still a sore subject to talk about.

"I don't know," I said. "Is your unibrow?"

He gave me a snide smile. "We're not going to have any trouble from you today, now are we?"

"No, sir," I said looking him straight in the eye.

"Good," he said. "Now get out of my line."

I turned and joined the rest of my group. I never looked back at him, but I knew he was watching me, and I quietly cursed him under my breath in a string of swearwords that would have made Logan proud. And when I was with my group, and sure he wasn't looking, I turned and gave his back two leather clad middle fingers. Even though he couldn't see it, it made me feel better. He hadn't just been hinting that I was a freak; he thought I was a mutant. That's why he thought I was going to start trouble. That and maybe the fact that I have my father's bad attitude and temper that pretty much always shines through, no matter what I do.

After being searched, we had to get our temporary ID tags that showed we were students and only permitted for the day. And that went a lot easier than the search. Then we were led to the coroner's office. Before being let into the autopsy room, I did as Hank had instructed by putting some of the vapor rub under my nose and popped a couple of Altoids in my mouth. The mint smell was strong on its own, but my senses were on high right then and I could tell what the guy across the room had had for lunch, so the new sensations were a little overwhelming and I worried if I could handle going into the room.

I didn't have very long to worry.

"All right, everyone take a mask and a set of glasses. Once you have them, please put them on," the coroner said. "And when you step into the room, try to stand as close together as possible; the room's small and we need to make sure everyone can fit."

Bashar strapped on his mask and it took him less than five seconds before doing a Darth Vader impression. It took Sam almost no time at all before coming back with a Luke Skywalker quote, and soon the two were caught up in a fake fight with imaginary light sabers.

I rolled my eyes as I put on my safety glasses. I would never understand boys.

"Okay, so like, what are the masks for, because I look like a total idiot," my classmate Hilary said.

That elicited another eye roll from me, along with some of the other students. "It's to keep you from injecting airborne particles when the body's cut open," I said.

"Very good," the coroner, who had introduced himself as Dr. Dillard said. "Perhaps you all should have taken a page from Miss…?"

"Rivers," I said.

"Thank you. From Miss Rivers' book and actually _studied_ when you're supposed to be witnessing here today."

"We _did_ study," one of the other students said. His name was Gacy and I had never liked him. He was always sucking up to the teachers. "It's not our fault that she actually _lives_ with a doctor."

"Dude, what does that have to do with _anything_? He works at a school; he doesn't do autopsies," I said, my voice sounding funny coming from behind the surgical mask I was wearing. "Now if we were all here to try to get our medical degrees, that might be different." I shook my head in frustration. "Besides, the mask thing has nothing to do with studying; it's called common sense."

"And how is that?"

"We're about to watch someone get cut open, and we don't know why they died. What if they had been packing heroin and the bags exploded in his stomach? He would die from an overdose. And the moment you cut his stomach open, particles of heroin would fly all over the place," I said.

"That's right," Dr. Dillard said. "As a matter of a fact, I've seen that very thing happen before. Not since working here, though. Our security is quite strong and wouldn't let a drug mule in."

I didn't mention that my reason for using that as an example was because I had seen it in a vision before.

"The masks and glasses are to protect the rest of you as well. From any flying blood or anything else. Now that you all have them on, I'm going to need you to put on a pair of protective gloves and to over any cuts or open wounds you may have."

After ten more minutes where everyone checked for any cuts and Dr. Dillard made sure we all had our equipment on properly, we were let into the room with the body.

I had seen hundreds of dead people before. It had really bothered me to begin with, when I was younger, but as I older, the more accustomed to it I became. But they had all been visions. Never right in front of me.

The body was that of a man who was too young to be lying on that table. His face had a purple blue tint to the white skin and he looked like he shouldn't have been more than twenty-five. He couldn't have been much older than me, and yet there he was, ready to be cut open as part of a demonstration for a bunch of kids who just weren't ready to grasp the full gravity of what we were about to witness.

There was a _boy_ on the table, he wasn't even old enough to really be a man yet, and he was dead. Death had claimed him for her own and left an empty shell behind. If reincarnation existed, I hoped he got a better chance in his new life other than winding up dead in a prison once again.

"What was his name?" I asked, staring at the cold, naked body in front of me.

"Erin Sheppard. He was twenty-three. He would have been twenty-four if he would have made it until next week. His birthday is Friday," the doctor answered.

"What was he in for?" one of the other students asked.

"He was arrested for assault with a weapon and soliciting sex from a minor."

"Does he have any family?" I asked.

Our teacher and some of the students stopped to stare at me.

"The only family he has is a five-year-old daughter who lives in New Jersey with her mother. The two were never married."

"Has she been contacted to know he's dead?"

"Yes. She wasn't very affected by it; she didn't seem too shocked, either. A lot of people thought it was a long time coming, apparently."

"So what happens to his body if he doesn't have any family to claim it?"

"The state will claim it and burry him," he said. "Very nice questions, Miss Rivers, but I think it would be easier on you and everyone else if you didn't get to know him too personally. It might make it more difficult for you to watch."

I continued to stare at the body. How could knowing who he was make it any more difficult? He was too young to be dead, and yet he was. I didn't understand death; I didn't understand how it could decide that someone so young was through with life and now belonged to her. Why did people have to die? Why did _he_ have to die, young as he was?

I had seen Logan slip off into death once before, it was in a vision and it scared me more than anything had ever scared me before in my life. I wondered what it would have been like to watch someone die in front of you. If you could catch the moment their soul or energy leaves their body. And then, more than ever, I wondered where we went once we did die.

I wanted so desperately to have a faith, something I believed in and followed blindly, knowing inside of me that what I believed was the absolute truth. I wanted to know that when we die, that's not it. That we keep going, that we get to stay with the ones we loved. Whether that meant grounding our energy into a solid object here on earth that could be solely associated with us and our memory, or merely letting our presence linger in the air, to let the ones we love know we're there. I wanted it, yeah, but more than anything I _needed_ it. I needed an idea to cling to. A thought to pin all my actions to. I needed to know why there was a boy not much older than me being cut down the chest as part of a field trip.

Death: It's all around us. We never know what may happen to us in our lives, but the one thing we're promised from the moment were born is that we _will_ die. It's the only guaranty that we have. We're faced with death constantly, and yet it never gets any easier. A grandparent or wife dies. The leaves on the trees and the flowers in the ground die. A pet and a friend dies. It's a constant, unwavering, and unflinching. It's our one promise.

Death knows no age, race, or religion. It doesn't care if we have a whole family that depends on us, or we're all alone. It doesn't care if we're rich or poor, smart or dumb, man or woman. Eventually she comes to claim us all in the end.

But I didn't know what happened next. I didn't know where we went _after_ we died. And maybe that's what scared me most of all.

Death was a mystery.

* * *

When I got home, it was after six o'clock. Our trip had been exhausting for me and I was looking forward to putting on my pajamas, eating some dinner and relaxing in the den with Hank. I needed to wind down and thought that being home would help me do that. But when I walked in, I realized immediately that I was wrong.

When I walked in the front door, I felt the tension hit me hard. I didn't know _who_ it was coming from, but I know _where_.

It was coming from the Professor's office.

I couldn't hear or sense who was in his office with him and I didn't understand what was going on. I was standing in the doorway, concentrating when I saw Logan come out of the elevator to my right.

"You all right?" he asked, walking up to me.

"Yeah," I said. "Do you know who's in Xavier's office with him?"

"One of the kid's parents. They made a late appointment, or something," he said. "Why? What do you feel?"

"Tension…and I think the kid's scared." I let out a sigh and shook my head. "I don't know. Maybe that's me instead."

"Your trip not any good?"

"I was one of the only students who made it through the autopsy without throwing up," I said. "That was the only good thing."

"What about the interview?" I didn't say anything, I just looked at him. "I knew you shouldn't have gone. You're gonna be havin' more nightmares now." He swore under his breath as he ruffled the back of his hair with his hand. "I knew I should've made you stay here."

"I'll be fine," I said. "I just need to put on some more comfortable clothes and get some ice cream. By tomorrow I'll be back to normal."

"You were normal at one point?" he joked.

I smiled. "Jerk," I said as the door to Xavier's door burst open.

Logan and I both turned to watch the man who came storming out of it with one of the younger female students following right behind him.

She was crying.

"Daddy, please don't leave! I'm sorry!" she cried. And I felt my heart ache at the intensity in her voice.

"Mr. Davis, don't make a rash decision now that you'll regret terribly in the future," the Professor said, wheeling out behind both of them.

"I'm not making a decision that I'm going to regret now _or_ in the future. I have two other kids at home, Professor; I'll make whatever decision I think is necessary to protect them. You told me my daughter was _gifted_ -"

"She _is_," Xavier said, his tone firm.

"No, she's a _mutant_," he spat.

"Daddy, I'm not going to hurt anyone, I promise!" the girl cried. "No one has to know I'm a mutant. I'll be good. I'll do anything you want me to do, but please don't leave me daddy, please! I'll be good daddy, I promise."

"Ashley stop it," her father ordered. "Just stop it."

"Listen to her Mr. Davis. She's asking for you to not leave her, she's _begging_ you. You have one chance to make sure you make the right decision," the Professor said.

The man shook his head. "I can't," he said, and I could hear the tears in his voice. "I can't do this, I can't."

And he walked away. Right past me, right out the door. It took Logan only a few seconds to decide to go after him. I watched him walk out the door, listening to the girl crying for the father who had just given up and walked out on her and I had never felt more pain for anyone than I did her right then.

Life is hard, it's complicated and on a good day, it only slightly sucks. But I was nineteen, foolish, and still under the impression that things were supposed to get easier when you got older and I felt the realization that life is _always_ hard come crashing down on me. He thought he was doing the right thing by abandoning his daughter to protect his other kids. And even though he was doing it, it wasn't easy for him. It hurt him. I could hear it and I could feel it. But he made the decision he thought would be best for everyone and walked away.

And I hoped and prayed that as long as I lived, I would never have to make a decision _that_ life altering. I hoped with everything inside of me that no one's life would ever be put in my hands to decide what to do with it. Because I didn't think I would be strong enough to make the right decisions.

And I hoped I would never have to find out.

* * *

"So how did your field trip go?" Hank asked, handing me a pint of Ben and Jerry's Phish Food along with a spoon.

I had changed into my pajamas, ate some dinner and was sitting in the den, waiting for our movie to start when Hank came in.

I let out a sigh as I took off the lid on my pint of ice cream. "Well…" I said, "not too great, actually."

"The autopsy was bad?"

"Not, really. I made it through it without getting sick; I think the tricks you taught me really helped. I couldn't smell a lot of it."

"But?"

I looked at him and shrugged. "But I'm just not cut out for that sort of thing. I can watch it if I have to, but I don't want a job where I'm surrounded by that much death on a daily basis."

"And yet you still want to be an X-Man?"

"X-Men are supposed to help keep people _from_ dying," I said. "But I don't know, maybe I'm not cut out for it, either."

"You have quite a while before you have to decide what you want to do with your life. Take your time."

I nodded. "Yeah, today's just been a tough day."

"I'm sorry."

I gave him a small smile. "It's not your fault," I said. "But thank you."

"You know, Cary Grant and ice cream is a well known cure for a very bad day."

I laughed. "Well, they couldn't make it any worse, I'll tell you that."

"I certainly hope not," he said as Rogue came into the room.

"Jayden, you have a phone call," she said, handing me the phone.

"Who is it?"

"A guy. I think he said his name was Tommy or Tony, or something."

I felt my heart flutter at the mention of his name. "Thank you," I told her quickly before putting the phone to my ear. "Hello?"

"Hi," Tony said. "How are you, Miss Rivers?"

I felt myself smile as a small hint of a blush pinched my cheeks. "I'm doing okay, thank you. How are you?"

"I'm doing very well, but that could be because I'm on the phone with you."

"Flattery will get you no where," I said, but continued to smile as my blush grew hotter. "So what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?"

"The tip you called in a couple of weeks ago turned out to be real."

"Well…yeah, you didn't think I was lying about it, did you?"

"No, I just didn't realize how accurate it would be," he said.

"They're very accurate. I see things; not make them up."

"Yeah, I know that now."

"When did you find her?"

"Yesterday."

"Wait…if she was where I told you she would be, why did it take you so long to find her?"

"Because she wasn't in the parking lot of a school. She was in a lot across from it. She was too close to the tree lines for anyone just driving by to see, and no one went into the parking lot, so they couldn't find her either. The students reported smelling something, but when they checked the grounds, they couldn't find anything."

"What was her name?"

"Lena Masters, which is what you said, and she was eighteen."

"Didn't her parents report her missing?"

"No, they didn't realize she _was_ missing."

"How can you not know your own child is missing?" I asked.

"Apparently her parents are divorced; one lives in Northern Alberta and the other lives in Montana. She splits her time between the two and she was meant to go to her mother's house in Montana this month, but she had talked to her and discussed the possibility of staying there and finishing her last year of high school in the same one she was at, rather than transferring back to the states. Her father said he had no idea she had even discussed that with her mother and thought she had just gone to her house without telling him bye. He mentioned that they had had an argument and said it wasn't unusual for her to leave without telling him when she was mad."

"So neither of them knew where she was at this whole time?"

"No."

"How sad," I said. "But thank you for calling and telling me that. I wish I could have helped to find her _before_ she died, but I'm glad that she's at least been found now."

"It's not your job to find them; it's mine."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe."

There was a short pause on his end of the phone and I could hear him shuffling papers. "So what are you doing this coming weekend?"

"Excuse me?"

I heard him laugh on the other end. "I'm sorry, there wasn't much of a segue for that, was there?" he said with another laugh. "I'm going to be in New York this weekend and I was wondering what you were doing? I thought we might get together and do something."

I felt my breath catch for just a moment as my smile widened and my blush grew deeper. "I'm not doing anything this weekend."

"Good. Would you like to get something to eat and maybe see a movie?"

"Yeah, I would love to."

"Great," he said. "How about I call you later in the week and we can figure out all the details?"

"Okay."

"Good. Then I'll let you go now, and I'll speak to you later in the week."

"I'll be looking forward to it."

"All right, enjoy your evening Miss Rivers, good night."

"Goodnight, Tony. Bye," I said before I hung up the phone.

"So _that_ was Tony?" Hank asked.

"Yeah."

"And he's made you blush and smile that wide? He must be a very charming young man."

"He's half Italian."

"Oh dear."

I laughed. "It's not _that_ bad."

"I certainly hope not," he said. "What did he want?"

"He wanted to know if I would go out to dinner with him next weekend."

"He asked you out on a date?"

"Well, uh…I guess. I didn't really think of it like that, but I guess so."

He laughed. "My dear, men do not call and ask you to dinner if they don't intend for it to be a date."

"How am I supposed to know? No one's ever asked me out before."

"No one?"

"Well….no," I said. "Except Ben, but he sort of wanted to kill me, so I don't think he really counted."

"Are you prepared to go on a date after that? Although it didn't ever actually happen, you did see it. Do you think you'll be okay?"

"Yeah," I said. "I'll be fine."

I was nineteen and going on my first date. It was about freakin' time.

* * *

I woke the next Saturday morning with butterflies in my stomach. My date with Tony was that night and I had never been so excited about anything. I felt like a little kid on Christmas morning. But when I went into my bathroom, all that excitement went out the window.

And I screamed.

The first person to come running to me was, as always, Logan. When he saw me and what was strewn about the bathroom floor, he swore and looked at me with his brow furrowed and one eyebrow raised.

"What'd you do?"

"What did _I_ do? I didn't do anything!" I shrieked as Hank came in behind Logan.

"Jayden, what happened?" he asked.

"I…I don't know," I said, looking at myself once again in the mirror. "But I have a mullet."

"It's not a mullet," Logan said. "But why did you cut your hair?"

"I didn't," I said as I looked around me, looking at the chunks of black hair lying on the floor, and tried to piece together a memory. "I mean, I don't _think_ I did. I don't remember it."

"You mentioned that you've been doing things at night that you don't remember, perhaps this was just an example of that."

"Gee, you think, McCoy?" Logan said sarcastically.

"Well as long as she's not harming herself or others, it shouldn't be dangerous."

"She had a pair of freakin' _scissors_. What if she'd tripped and fallen on 'em? I'd say that's pretty dangerous," Logan snapped angrily. Then he turned his look on me. "And if what you're doin' is anything like the night me and Chuck were in here after you had that vision, or dream, or whatever the heck it was, then you're not _asleep_. When you're doing this, you're awake."

"But why would I cut my own hair off? That doesn't make any sense."

"I don't know, but you're not stayin' by yourself anymore, not after this."

"Fine, but what am I going to do about my hair? I have a date tonight and I am _not_ going with a mullet."

"Good reason for me to not take you to get it fixed," Logan muttered.

"I'm serious, dude. What am I going to do?"

"Rogue can fix it."

"What?"

"Her momma used to cut hair, or something, she knows what she's doin'. She can fix it for you."

I tapped my foot anxiously for a moment. "Fine," I said. "Go get her. I don't think she could mess it up anymore than it already is."

* * *

"All right, I can fix this," Marie said. Logan had gone to get her and she had spent five silent, nerve wracking minutes staring at my hair before declaring it fixable. "But it's gonna be kind'a short."

"How short?" I asked.

"Well…a little above your shoulders is probably the longest the bottom can me."

"My hair hasn't been above my shoulders since I was like, ten years old."

"Sorry," she said. "But you cut it at some pretty funky angles. I'll try to keep it as long as I can; I'm just going to have to give you some layers, though."

"If you really know what you're doing, the fine, do it. I just can't go out in public with my hair like this, and I _really_ can't go out on a date."

"You have a date? When?"

"Tonight."

"With who?"

"His name is Tony. I met him at my friend's wedding in October. Her husband is his brother, and their uncle is a friend of my parents. But I had known him when I was younger; I just hadn't seen him in a while."

"Is he cute?"

"Yeah. He's _really_ cute, actually."

"What does he look like?" she asked as she started spraying my hair with water from a water bottle.

"He has dark brown hair, brown eyes…he's pretty tall and looked nice in a suit. Plus he had nice teeth and he smelled good."

"You can't beat that," she said. "How old is he?"

"Uh…well, he's quite a bit older."

"By how much?"

"A few years. He's thirty."

"That's not too bad."

"Yeah, in comparison to like, Logan, who's well over a hundred."

"It works for me," she joked. "Besides, I thought you were always supposed to compare other guys to your daddy?"

I laughed. "I'll have to remember that one when Logan's drilling me about him later."

"Don't worry about it," she said, combing through my now damp hair. "I'll keep him off your back."

"Thanks, I appreciate it."

"No problem."

It took Rogue a little over an hour to cut my hair. And when I looked at myself in the mirror, I almost felt like crying.

"Do you like it?" she asked.

"Well…it's going to take me a really long time to get used to it. It's really, _really_ short."

"I know. I tried to keep it as long as I could. I'm sorry."

"No, it's not your fault, you did a good job, it's just…it's really going to take me a while to get used to it."

The hair that I had always taken pride in for keeping so long was suddenly very short. My jet black hair that sat above my shoulders and had even shorter layers with some weird side band thing going on made me look like I was wearing a horrible wig left over from Halloween. And I hated it. I saw myself with my new hair cut, my blue cat shaped eyes, my sharp teeth and my arms, both of which were now covered almost completely with black rings. I saw myself, but I wasn't looking at me. I was lost somewhere inside, unable to do anything about the changes happening to me. I was forced to watch everything happening to me, wanting to yell, and scream, and to just be able to _do_ something about it. But I couldn't.

I turned around and looked at her. "Thank you. I really mean it. If you ever need me to do anything for you, just ask, because I really owe you."

She smiled at me. "Don't worry about it. Trustin' me to pull this off is payment enough. Even Logan won't let me get near his head with a pair of scissors, and he's the one who really needs the haircut."

I laughed slightly and nodded. "Yeah," I said. "I guess I better clean this up and get in the shower. It's going to take me a while to make myself look normal before my date."

"Do you know what you're gonna wear yet?"

"No, I have no idea," I said. "This is all completely new to me."

"Do you want me to help? I mean, if you need a soundin' board, or something. I know you're probably closer to Hank, but if you need some female advice, I'd be glad to help."

I smiled. "Yeah, all right."

"Well, I'm really sorry I couldn't keep your hair any longer."

I shook my head. "It's fine, don't worry about it," I said. "But I'm going to hop in the shower. I'll let you know when I'm getting ready to start picking out an outfit."

She said a few things, acknowledging what I had said before saying bye and leaving. But I hadn't paid a lot of attention to what she had said. My mind was somewhere else. And it wandered the whole time I was cleaning up the hair on my bathroom floor.

I thought about how things had seemed to get worse for me physically ever since I had been struck by lightening. And with the realization that I had almost died, things got a lot worse for me mentally as well. I had been thinking a lot about death and wondering where we went _after_ we died for quite some time, but in that year alone, my curiosity had been piqued more than ever.

After cleaning up the mess on the floor, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror once more. Everything about me that at one point had looked soft and feminine now looked hard and strong. Not that there was anything wrong with looking strong. A lot of people struggled to put my looks on paper to describe a character from a book, or to illustrate a cartoon character. The problem was though, I wasn't a character. I was a real person. And a look that may have seemed fine in a movie about butt kicking vampires who get the guy in the end, didn't work in real life. And especially not for me.

I had spent nearly my whole life in a wardrobe of dresses and cardigans, headbands and high heels, pearls and perfect smiles. Even though I wasn't that same person anymore, even if I dressed a little differently, I wasn't ready for something like that. I looked like some kind of ancient warrior. A title I hadn't even almost earned yet. But still that's what I looked like.

I shook my head and sat down on the edge of my tub as I let out a deep sigh. I thought back to the day I had been struck by lightening. I had been having a vision of some sickly looking girl when I was hit. I didn't remember anything about it and all I remembered after it was waking up in the infirmary with Scott beside me. He had pulled me out of the pool when I had fallen in. Water seemed to follow me. When I had tried killing myself, it had been by drowning in the tub.

In my vision, the men had tortured me by holding my head under water until I almost passed out. Then they would lift me up and let my catch my breath for only a minute before doing it all over again.

And also in my vision, once we had escaped and returned back home, things had been so difficult that I had tried drowning myself again.

And then there was the fact that it rained the whole time I was with Logan when we were in Canada. It had poured rain until the day I had left. Then it stopped.

But what was the significance to water? What did it mean, and why was it following me? During one of our discussions, Hank and I had talked about different religions and he had said that some hold water very highly in respect. He said some people believed it could even wash away your sings. Maybe that's what I needed? To wash away my sins. Maybe that's why it had played a significant role in my life in the past year alone. Maybe it was a sign.

And maybe the reason why I had started looking the way I did was because that's how my sins were being manifested? It had taken everything else from me; my parents, my mother, Scott. It couldn't claim Logan because our bond was too deep. But it took away our outside similarities. I no longer looked like him. Maybe all I needed was to acknowledge the fact that I had made some mistakes, I had done some bad things, and atone for my sins. And maybe I had to do that with water. Just not the way I had been doing it.

I stood from the edge of my tub and turned on the shower. I made sure the water was warm before I took off my clothes and got in. The small bathroom quickly filled with steam as I washed my newly shorn hair and tried to keep myself unfazed. I accepted it as a punishment for something I had done, and as I made my way over each part of my body that had been affected, I washed it and hoped the water would cleanse away my sins, and along with it, the blows to my vanity that I had undoubtedly brought upon myself. But by the end of my shower, I still looked the same. Nothing had changed, my tattoos hadn't faded, and I was still as confused as ever.

But I didn't move.

"I don't know who you are, or what you are," I said aloud, "but I'm asking you for forgiveness. I know I hurt a lot of people and I know I've done a lot of things I shouldn't have, so I'm asking you to forgive me. If you want me to show devotion, then fine, I'll stay here until this is all gone. You keep throwing this water thing in my face, so I'll stay here, under the water until you take this all away from me."

I felt my eyes fill with tears as I slid down my shower to sit on the floor. As they rolled down my cheeks, they mixed with the shower water that was pouring down on my from above.

"Why am _I_ being punished?" I asked through my tears. "Why do _I_ have to pay for this, but everyone else get away perfectly fine? Why do _you_ get to hide and choose what happens to me?"

I didn't know who I was talking to. The universe, a deity, God Himself. I didn't know who was out there. But I wasn't going to let that stop me, because they had to have been watching me. Otherwise how would they have known to punish me? I was stubborn and strong headed; if they wanted me to wash my sins away, I was going to sit there until they were gone.

"If you gave this to me, then you can take it away, too. I'm asking to be forgiven. I know I did some things that were wrong, that's why I'm asking for forgiveness. So I'll wait until you see that I mean it," I said. "I'll wait."

* * *

I barely heard my bedroom door opening. And it only took a few seconds between my bathroom opening and my shower curtain being pulled back. When he saw my blue and purple and shivering body, Logan swore. Then he turned off the water before hauling my cold body out of the shower. He grabbed my robe and helped me into it. Then he took some towels and wrapped them around my legs, feet and head. After searching through the cabinet under my sink for a few minutes where I continued to shiver and shake, he finally pulled out my hair dryer. He plugged it up, brought it over to where he had sat me at the base of the tub and squatted down beside me. Then he turned it on. I closed my eyes and tried to just let the air warm me up. But the hot air stung on my cold skin and I let out an involuntary hiss at the burning feeling.

"Deal with it," Logan said. "I'm the one havin' to thaw you out like a freakin' frozen piece of meat. So you don't get to say anything right now. Not until I'm done and you stop shiverin'. Then I wanna know what the heck you think you were doin'."

"I was trying to get clean," I said quietly, my voice not willing to go any higher. It was further muffled by the chattering of my teeth and the sound of the hair dryer.

"You had some hair on you; that was it. It wasn't like you were rolling' around in the dirt or something."

I shook my head, feeling the towel he had wrapped around it rub against the top of my ears. "Not that kind of clean," I said, looking down at the black rings on my wrist that were peeking out from underneath the sleeves of my robe.

He looked down at them and swore again as he continued to shake his head. "You can't wash those away, kid, they're there for good. You gotta get used to 'em."

"No," I said. "They're not there for good. They're there because I did something bad. It's my punishment."

"They're there 'cause you're a mutant," he said, staring into my eyes. "You ain't done anything to be punished for. _Anything_."

"You have to say that; you're my father."

"Have I ever lied to you just 'cause I'm your father?" I shook my head. "Then I ain't lyin' to you now," he said, turning my hair dryer off. He laid it down and sat beside me, pulled me into his arms, and tried warming me up himself. "And if you wanna try doin' some weird religious cleansin' crap, can't you do it in warm water?"

"The water _was_ warm when I started."

"You used all the hot water? That would take three hours to do that."

I looked at the watch on his wrist. It was after one in the afternoon. "I was in there for four," I said.

He swore again. "You were in there for _four_ hours?"

"At least I didn't try drowning myself this time."

He exhaled a deep breath. "I'm keepin' you away from water."

"How would I take a shower?"

"You can stink, or I'll hose you down outside with the water hose."

"I really would freeze out there."

"You didn't seem to mind it just now."

"I was waiting."

"For what?"

"Them, it, they, whoever it is that made me look like this. Whatever it is that controls the universe."

"Who says anyone controls is?"

"Millions of people who actually believe in something."

"You don't believe in anything?"

"Just you," I said.

He kissed the side of my forehead and his hot breath warmed my skin. "Then you can believe in me. And I won't let anyone hurt you," he whispered. "I promise."

That day I found something worth believing in. I found somewhere to put my faith. Hank had told me that I should believe in something as much as I believed in Logan. But there was nothing else, so I believed in him.

He was my faith.

He was my heart.

He was my world.

He was my father.

And nothing could ever compare to him.


	22. I Want To Know What Love Is

Disclaimer: You break it, you buy it, I really hope I haven't broken Marvel or Fox with this because I can't buy them.

Sidenote: I apologize for the lack of updates recently, but real life has caught up with me. I was forced to get a job (blah) but hopefully things will pick up again soon because we're reaching the end. In the mean time, enjoy this uber long chapter.

* * *

"You're not goin' out tonight," Logan said.

I was in the kitchen talking to him while he was making lunch for himself. I had gone down with Rogue to get a drink before picking out an outfit for my date, and that's when Logan decided to spring the information on me. And as any normal teenage girl would, I argued with him about it.

"Why?" I asked as Scott walked into the kitchen. As if I wasn't already being punished enough.

"'Cause I said so."

"That's not a _reason_."

"How about you're not goin' after that little stunt you pulled today? Does that reason work for you?"

"No," I said, "because that wasn't a stunt."

"You're not goin' on a date tonight. End of story."

"You have a date tonight?" Scott asked.

"_Had_ a date," Logan corrected. "She's not goin'. Not that it would be any of _your_ business if she was."

"Hank checked me out; he said I was fine."

"I don't care what Hank said. He's not your father; I am."

"What did you do?" Scott asked.

"None of your freakin' business One-Eye, now go back to makin' your sandwich."

"Logan, _please_. This means a lot to me, don't tell me I can't go."

"No," he said. "And quit lookin' at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like someone's just killed your puppy."

"I don't _have_ a puppy."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is?"

"You lookin' at me like that with big eyes and poutin'."

I closed my eyes and tilted my head down so he couldn't see my face. "Better?"

"Don't get smart with me, kid."

"I'm not getting smart; I'm trying to get you to take me seriously. You said I was looking at you funny, so if you can't see my face, then you can at least consider what I'm saying without complaining about how I look."

"I already told you; you're not goin' anywhere tonight."

I looked up at him. "I'm nineteen freakin' years old, I don't have to have your permission to do everything," I snapped.

"I'm not sayin' you do. I'm sayin' you're stayin' here. That's it, end of the discussion."

"_Why_?"

"Because you almost got hypothermia two hours ago. I don't know what's goin' on it your head and until I do, you're not goin' anywhere."

I didn't say anything as I stormed out of the kitchen. On my way to the stairwell, I almost collided with Bobby.

"Sorry," I said, stopping inches from running into him.

"It's fine," he said. "But where were you this morning?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"This morning. I came by your room looking for you because we were supposed to go shopping today."

"Oh crap Bobby," I said. "I _completely_ forgot. I've just been so busy lately and I've had so much on my mind. I'm really, really sorry."

He gave me a slightly forced smile. "Don't worry about it; it's not a big deal."

"Can we go tomorrow? I'll buy you lunch, I'll buy you a cookie, I'll…I'll do _something_ to make it up to you, I promise."

His smile became more genuine. "You don't have to buy me anything," he said. "We'll just go tomorrow. It's not a big deal."

"Thank you," I said, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before starting up the stairs. "I swear I won't forget it tomorrow, Bobby."

"Yeah, okay," he called after me.

As I made my way to my room, I couldn't believe that I had forgotten him like that. I had made plans with Tony _after_ the ones I had made with Bobby. But when he had called, my mind had completely blanked out. I felt like a horrible person and an even worse friend. I didn't understand why anyone would want to be around me. I had finally found some real friend, people who knew and loved me for who I was, not who I pretended to be, and the moment one of them asked something of me, I completely flaked out.

I deserved to be a lonely, miserable person. And I totally didn't deserve the friends I had. Yet they kept coming back to me.

"Can I come in?" I heard Rogue ask from outside my door.

"Yeah," I said, my voice muffled from where I was lying face down on top of my bed.

"What are you doin'? It's after three, you're supposed to be meetin' him at seven; you have to start gettin' ready," she said.

"I'm not going."

"Why?"

I rolled over and sat up. "Did we not just hear the same conversation I had with Logan?"

"Yeah, and I heard you say you didn't have to ask his permission for everything, too."

"He questioned my sanity."

She gave me a look that reminded me frighteningly of Logan. The whole 'duh' thing with the raised eyebrow. It pissed me off when he did it and it really pissed me off when she did it. "Isn't that sort'a like the pot callin' the kettle black?"

"I guess," I said, shaking my head. "But I'm not crazy, though…right?"

"In this house? You're one of the saner ones…saner? More sane?" She shook her head. "Whatever; you're not as crazy as the rest of us. Not yet, anyway."

"I flaked out on Bobby."

"What?"

"I was supposed to go Christmas shopping with him today. He asked me to go last week and I completely forgot about it."

"That doesn't mean you're crazy, it just means you're a little forgetful. You've got a lot goin' on right now, that's normal."

"So I'm not crazy yet, I'm just losing my memory."

She came and sat down in my chair beside me. "They say it's the first to go."

"Yeah, no freakin' kidding."

"Maybe you need to get out and have some fun. I know that after your really bad vision you had this summer you've been a little bit…nervous. I think goin' out would be good for you."

"Tell that to Logan."

"I will," she said. "They don't understand what it's like to think you're gonna die. Yeah, they've all been in some pretty bad fights, and even Logan's kind'a died before. But they signed up for that. They knew it could happen." She paused for a second and I wondered if she was going to cry.

"I still remember bein' chained to that machine on Liberty Island and just knowin' I was gonna die. I didn't, 'cause Logan saved me, and they thought I should've just gone right back to bein' a normal teenager. But I couldn't. I _tried_, but I didn't know how to be like that anymore. I was so scared; I didn't know if someone else was gonna try killin' me. Then the only person who could save me just left. I was terrified. I was havin' all these horrible nightmares. Some were memories of what happened that night, but mostly they memories from Logan and Magneto. And neither of them have very good memories. But no one got how scared I was and how long it took to get over that fear."

She shook her head. "I didn't know what death was until then, and when I saw it, I knew I wasn't ready to face it."

"Yeah," I said, almost too stunned for words. "That's _exactly_ how I feel."

"Just because what you saw in your vision didn't happen, it doesn't mean it wasn't still real to you. And you're still havin' to deal with it while they're wonderin' why you can't just get over it."

I didn't want to admit it, but right then, I realized that Rogue and I were more alike than either of us knew.

* * *

"Are you still mad at me?" Logan asked, coming into my room.

It was five-thirty and I was in my bedroom, in my bed, reading a book.

I lowered the book to look at him. "Yeah," I said. "A little."

"'Cause I told you that you couldn't go on your date or 'cause I said I didn't know what was goin' on in your head?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "You've been talking to Marie, haven't you?"

"Maybe," he said. "So why are you mad at me?"

"I'm mad at you for both of them," I said, sitting up. "It feels like I'm finally ready to move on and move past this…thing, and now you're trying to stop me."

"I'm not tryin' to keep you from movin' on. I'm tryin' to _protect_ you. You're my daughter, I'm your father, that's what I'm supposed to do, right?" he asked. I didn't answer. "Right? 'Cause I don't know what I'm doin', I'm playin' this by ear, kid. You gotta tell me what you need, 'cause I don't know."

"I need you to _trust_ me."

"I want to, but then you go and do something like you did earlier today and I don't know if I can even let you outta my sight, 'cause I'm scared you're gonna hurt yourself."

"I'm not going to hurt myself, Logan."

"You were runnin' around with scissors while you were asleep last night."

"I didn't do it on purpose."

"Well knowin' you didn't do it on purpose ain't gonna be a lotta comfort when I find you dead from stabbin' yourself with scissors."

"Okay, but that doesn't have anything to do with trust."

"What about you did this mornin', huh? You almost got hypothermia."

"I was trying to prove a point."

"To who?"

"I don't know."

"You weren't tryin' to prove anything; you were just bein' stubborn."

"And where do you think I got that from?"

"Who did you blame all this on _before_ you knew me?"

"I didn't do anything like this before I met you."

"So what? You met me and your impulse control went out the window?" He swore. "I know I do a lotta dumb crap, kid, but even I can keep myself from doin' some things."

"I'm not you!" I snapped.

"Well you keep blamin' everything you do on gettin' it from me, so you might as well be," he said. Then he turned and started back towards my door. "You're stayin' in tonight."

I stood up and took my book and threw it at him. It hit him in the back and he turned around to look at me. "Just leave and get out of my room!" I yelled. "If you want to think I'm crazy, then fine. You're just like my parents!"

He stormed back over and stood right in front of me. I could see the anger in his eyes and hear it in his breath, and there was a fear that bubbled up inside of me at the sight of him that I rarely ever felt.

"If you compare me to your parents one more freakin' time, I'm gonna pack you up and ship you right back to 'em, you understand me?" His voice was low and intimidating and I felt myself actually begin to shake slightly at the sound of it. "And you don't throw crap at me. I know I ain't been the best father, but I'm yours and you're gonna respect me, you got that?" I nodded slowly, not looking him in the eye. "I don't think you're crazy, I never have. But you're my daughter and I know me and I know you got a chance to turn out like me. I don't _want_ you to be crazy, I want you to be here with me and I wanna take care of you. That's it. But I can't do that if you keep pushin' me away?"

"How am I pushing you away by wanting to go out on a date?"

"No, by tryin' to kill yourself!" he bellowed in my face.

"I didn't _try_ to kill myself!" I screamed, finding my voice. "I wanted answers, I _need_ them, and no one can give them to me. No one can. I need to understand what's going on and why things are happening the way that they are. I need something to believe in, so I was giving whoever it is out there a chance to prove to me that I'm not alone."

"You're not alone; _I'm_ here!" he said. "I'm here with you."

"But I _feel_ like I am sometimes," I said, my voice lower, no longer feeling the need to scream. "I don't know what's happening to me, and everything feels like it's out of control."

He used his hand to tilt my fact up to look at his and I saw the softness return to his eyes. I was still shaking, some of it was still from fear, but mostly it was just from my crying.

"You're not alone," he said again, his voice quieter and gentler. "I'm here and I'm not gonna leave you."

"You said you were going to pack me up and ship me back to my parents."

He dropped his head, allowing his forehead to rest on mine. "I'm sorry, I should't've said that, but it pisses me off when you compare me to 'em. I'm not them. I'm never gonna be."

"It's just…everyone thinks I'm going crazy. They said that _over_ and _over_ until I had to run away to prove to myself that I wasn't. And then this past year has been so hard and so much has gone on, and people still think I'm crazy. Now I'm wondering if I really am."

"You're not."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause a crazy person doesn't know they're crazy."

"But I thought you knew you were crazy?"

I couldn't see him smile, but I could sense it. "I'm different, darlin, I don't count."

"I'm scared," I admitted.

"Don't be," he said, shaking his head against my forehead. "I'm here and you ain't gotta be scared."

"But I am. I'm scared that something's wrong with me. I'm scared because I can't control what's happening to me. I keep seeing things that I don't remember or that don't make sense." I let out a heavy sigh. "I don't understand and all I want is to be _normal_. Even if it's just for one night, for only a few hours. That's all I want," I said. "I'm tired of letting men who aren't even _alive_ dictate how I live my life. I'm tired of being _scared_ of men who are dead."

He pulled me into his arms and propped his chin on top of my head. "Then don't be scared; 'cause they're not gonna hurt you anymore."

"But I'm living inside a shell because of them. So they win. Game over. I'm some crazy little girl that's always going to live with my father because I'm too scared to do anything else," I said. "And when I decided to try to get over it, you told me I had to stay here."

I felt him take in a deep breath before letting it out. "Look," he started, "if you can get ready in time, you can go. But you're takin' one of the GPS trackin' systems and one of the school's cell phones, in case something happens. And I wanna know where you're supposed to be goin' and when. You hear me?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good. Now get ready and I'll go talk to Chuck about gettin' you a phone and a GPS," he said, letting me go.

I looked up at him, into his eyes, and gave him a small smile. "Thank you," I said. "You have no idea what this means to me."

He bent and gave me a kiss on the forehead. "No, I don't, but it better mean a heck of a lot, 'cause it may be the last date you go on for a while, kid," he said. "And I want you back by ten."

"Eleven."

"Ten-thirty."

"Deal."

As he left my room, he gave me a look that said he was perturbed or annoyed, but his emotions said something else. He was nervous and worried about me. The daughter he had only had for a year was already growing up and trying to move on.

And that scared him.

* * *

"Tony's here, I'm leaving. Bye Logan, love you, see you tonight," I said, rushing through the foyer where he was standing with Hank and the Professor, talking.

He grabbed my arm and pulled me back to him. He took my wrist and pulled the bracelet I was wearing off before strapping something on the inside of it and slid it back on my wrist. I gave him a confused look.

"It's GPS, keep it on."

"All right," I agreed.

"And here, take this cell phone in case you need to call me to come get you."

I took the cell phone and put it in my purse. "Anything else?"

"No," he said as Rogue came down the stairs. His eyes shifted from me to her and I felt a slight pang of jealousy.

"You look so gorgeous," she said to me as she walked over to us.

"Thank you."

I was wearing a black, long sleeved lace dress that was a couple inches above my knees. The lace and the slip underneath it helped to disguise my 'tattoos' some and made them blend in with the pattern. I was also wearing black high heels and black tights. My hair was down because I had given up on trying fixing it. After an hour of attempting a hundred different hairstyles, I finally ran a curling iron through it and hoped it looked like it was _meant_ to be messy.

"You picked it out," I told her.

"I know, but it looks really good on you. You look very grown up," she said with a smile. "Logan, don't you think she looks pretty?"

"Yeah," he said unenthusiastically and I rolled my eyes at him.

"Well, I think you look absolutely stunning," Hank said.

I smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Hank," I said. "But I have to go; he's waiting outside the gates."

"Okay, be careful sweetheart," he said.

I gave Logan a kiss on the cheek too and hugged him. "Bye Logan, I'll see at eleven-thirty. Love you."

"Woah, nice try, but we agreed ten-thirty. And I don't want you here a minute after."

"So if I'm a minute late, I should just go home with him?" I asked, feigning innocence. He wasn't amused. I smiled. "I'm joking; I'll be home at ten thirty, all right? Love you, furry-face."

"Right back at'cha, kid,"

I told Rogue and the Professor bye before starting to the door where I stopped at the coat closet to pull on my long black coat before I turned back around to look at them. "Don't you want to meet him?" I asked Logan.

"Is he a good guy?"

"Yeah."

"Then I trust you."

"Okay," I said, "bye."

I left the mansion wondering what he was up to and if I was going to regret not calling him on his lie later that night. Something just wasn't right. He didn't trust me, or my judgment. Not then anyway. So why, I wondered, didn't he want to meet him?

I didn't look back at the school until I got to the gates and when I did, I felt an overwhelming sense of comfort.

"_Be careful, baby_," I heard Logan's voice in my head say.

I smiled. "_I will be_," I sent back to him. "_I promise_."

* * *

After leaving the old movie theater in town, where Tony and I watched a screening of the original 'Psycho', we went to a Japanese restaurant he had picked out for us. But the whole way there he teased me on my reaction to the movie. I had never seen it before and the shower scene had seriously freaked me out. I reminded myself to _never_ take a shower in a motel room when I was alone, should Logan and I ever decide to run away again. There's no telling how many creepy people could be watching and waiting to kill me. And that was _not_ a good thing.

Once we got to the restaurant, we were seated and ordered. While we were waiting for our food, we kept a steady flow of conversation going. He was an easy person for me to talk to. He had a way about him that put me at ease and the energy coming off him was warm and easy to accept. Whereas some people put off an energy that's cold, or too harsh, and it's hard to allow to flow through me. But his felt smooth and natural. And very few people I knew felt that way.

"So how are your classes going? You're taking forensics science still, right?"

I smiled at him. "Yeah, I'm still taking forensics. And it's going quite well, actually. I even had my firs autopsy last week."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Those are just a ton of fun, aren't they?" he asked jokingly with a smile.

"Oh yeah." I laughed.

"Did you throw up?"

"You know, surprisingly I didn't. I was actually one of the few who didn't get sick."

"So you scream through almost all of 'Psycho' but you're fine watching an actual person be hacked up?" he teased.

"I wasn't fine; I just didn't get sick. And that movie was scary!"

He laughed. "Well congratulations on getting through your first autopsy vomit free. That's a feat I didn't accomplish."

"Well, I sort of cheated," I admitted.

"How?"

"I have a friend who lives at the school, he's a doctor, and he told me to put some of that Vick's vapor rub stuff under my nose and pop a couple of breath mints in my mouth, and it keeps the smell from getting to you."

"Smart doctor."

"He's a genius, actually."

"Really? Is he good looking and rich, too?"

"Pretty much."

"Single?"

"Yeah, why? Are you interested?" I joked.

"Hey, just keeping my options open." He laughed. "Anything I should know about him?"

"Well," I said, sitting back in my chair and smiling at him. "He loves old movies, he's a _fantastic_ cook. I'm serious; his pancakes are like, Heaven embodied in food form, it's great. But he can cook more than pancakes, just in case you're wondering. He loves Shakespeare and can quote just about all of his plays. And he can speak like, ten languages, or something."

"And he likes long walks on the beach and cuddling?"

I laughed. "Well, obviously, that's a given."

"So he's rich, good looking, smart and he can cook. Should I actually be worried about the two of you?"

I shook my head as I smiled at him. "No. He's like…a big brother, or an uncle, or something. He's a cool guy, though."

"And he really speaks more than ten languages, huh?"

"Yeah, he is a genius after all."

"He wouldn't know how to speak Latin, would he?" he asked with a half smile as he took a sip of his water.

"Yeah actually, he does."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, we got a bit of a weird note left with one of the victims. We think it's in Latin, but we can't tell. We've tried getting language experts to work on it, but the ones we can actually find this time of the week can't seem to be able to figure it out."

"Which victim did you find it with?"

"The last one," he said, pulling out a piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. "Lena Masters."

"Where did you find it at? I don't remember seeing a piece of paper by her."

"That's because it was in her backpack. It was hidden pretty well too; our team didn't find it until this morning. They e-mailed me a copy of it, but I don't understand a word of it."

"Maybe she wrote it, then?"

"It doesn't match her hand writing. It also doesn't match the handwriting of any of the teachers or students from the school, her parents or any of her family. We can't find a match for it."

"What about finger prints?" I asked as he handed me the piece of paper. "No wonder you can't match the handwriting; it looks like chicken scratch."

"Yeah, that's mine; I copied it."

"Oh," I said, feeling my cheeks flush hot. "I'm _really_ sorry. It's not _that _bad."

He laughed. "Forget about it," he said. "As for fingerprints, they tried but they couldn't lift any recognizable ones from it. Basically we can't find a match for them, either." He looked at me as I studied the paper. "Can you read it?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Okay, if you can give it to him and see if he knows what it means, you can just call me back, or something," he said. "Or you can give _him_ my number." He gave me a wink and I laughed.

"Why don't I just call him now?"

"Are you sure? You don't have to. I didn't mean to interrupt our dinner."

"In case you haven't noticed, our dinner's not here yet," I said with a smile. "Besides, I might get jealous if he starts calling you. And he's a pretty big guy; I don't think I would want to fight him for you."

He laughed. "All right, if you don't mind."

I grabbed the cell phone from my purse and dialed the mansion's number. After three rings someone answered and the voice on the other line made my heart jump. "Hey Scott, do you know where Hank is?" I asked, trying to compose myself.

"Yeah, he's in the lab," he said. "Where are you?"

"I'm on a date."

"Oh…I thought Logan wasn't going to let you go?"

"He changed his mind."

"Is something wrong?"

"No, why?"

"Well, you're calling home on your date."

"Oh, no, I have to ask Hank a question. Can you connect me to the lab so I can talk to him?"

"Yeah. Have a good time on the rest of your date," he said before the line went quiet and I heard it ringing again.

"Hello?" Hank's cheerful voice answered.

"Hey Hank."

"Jayden, are you still on your date? Is something the matter?"

"No, nothing's wrong," I said. "But Tony's team found a note on the last victim that's written in Latin and they haven't been able to find anyone to translate it into English and I said you might be able to."

"I will give it my best effort. What is the text they need translated?"

"It's uh…" I said, looking at the paper. I didn't recognize most of the words. "In caecus terrae, luscus rex est." Then I spelled it out for him in case I had pronounced anything wrong.

"Well, I do believe it says 'In the land of the blind, the one-eye man is king'," he said. "Does that make any sense to you or him?"

"Yeah, I think so," I said. "Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome. And when you get home, I would love to hear how your evening went."

I smiled. "I'll be sure to let you know."

"Okay, have fun and enjoy the rest of your night."

"I will. Bye Hank."

"Bye sweetheart." I hung up the phone and put it back in my purse, then I looked up at Tony.

"Does he know what it means?" he asked.

"He said that it meant, 'In the land of the blind, the one-eye man is king'."

"And he's sure about that?"

"Pretty sure. Like I said; he's a genius."

He took the paper back from me, pulled out a pen and scribbled down the translation underneath it. "Thanks," he said, giving me a small smile. "This means I have to go back to work sooner than I thought."

"Sorry," I apologized. "How much sooner?"

"Depending on how much this is going to mean to the case, maybe tomorrow."

"That…sucks," I said, unable to find a better word.

He laughed. "Yeah, it does, but if it means something to the case, we might be able to solve it sooner and then I'll get some time off and get to go home."

"Do you miss it back in California?"

"Yeah," he said. "Don't you?"

"No, I don't miss it at all."

"Really? You prefer the cold winters in New York over the warmer ones back home? Don't you miss the beach and the ocean?"

"I do miss that, yeah, but it's not like we don't have a beach here in New York. And I actually like the winters here."

"Then you are obviously not a true California girl," he said with a smile.

I leaned in closer to him and dropped my voice. "I'll let you in on a little secret; I'm _not_. I'm actually from Canada."

"Really?" he asked, his smile growing winder.

I nodded. "Yeah, I was born there to Canadian parents and lived there until I was four. _Then_ I moved to California."

"So that explains why you prefer the cold." I leaned back in my chair and smiled at him. "Are you the maple syrup, hockey watching kind of Canadian, eh?" he asked with a fake accent.

I laughed. "Well…kind of. Is that bad?"

"No, it's kind of cute," he said. "_Eh_."

I felt myself begin to blush as my smile grew. "Thank you."

Soon our food came out and our conversation carried on as we ate. But not long after our food was brought to us, I felt an energy rush over me and out of the corner of my eye, I saw two people come in. I kept my eyes on them as they were seated and began looking over their menus.

"Do you know them?" Tony asked, following my gaze.

"Yeah," I said. "Excuse me, I'll be right back." I gave him a forced smile as I stood from our table. I walked over to the couple sitting at another table in the smoking area and stopped right in front of their table. I put my hands on my hips and scowled at them. "Hi," I said.

"Jayden, what are you doin' here?" Rogue asked, looking confused.

"Funny, I was just about to ask the exact same thing from the two of you," I said, turning my stare on Logan. "So what is it that _you're_ doing here? Because _I'm_ on a date."

"Sorry darlin', I didn't realize this is where you were supposed to be eatin'," Logan said with a half smirk.

"You are _such_ a jackass. Aside from the fact that you slapped a GPS locater on my bracelet, which I haven't taken off, I actually told you this was where I was going; I gave you the name."

"I guess I forgot," he lied.

"So you forgot the name, but you showed up here, too? What a big freakin' coincidence."

"Well I did used to live in Japan, kid. Sometimes I miss the food."

"You don't even _remember_ living in Japan, so don't feed me that line of crap."

"Look, I'm sittin' over here, you're sittin' over there, it's no big deal."

"I'm on a date, Logan."

"Well maybe I am too."

"Stalking your daughter doesn't count as a date, and I'm sure Rogue doesn't appreciate you using her as part of her game," I said. "Have you been following me the whole time?"

"No, we went and saw a movie at an old theater downtown," Marie answered.

I turned back to her. "What movie did you go see?"

"The story of your life, darlin'," Logan muttered, taking a draw of his cigar.

"That's not funny, Logan," she said, shaking her head. "We went and saw the movie 'Psycho'."

"Yeah," I said. "So did we."

She gave him a look that impressed even me. If looks could kill, he would have died right on the spot. "So much for takin' me out just for fun," she said. "You could've told me the truth."

"I did," he lied. I rolled my eyes at him and he looked up at me, blowing out smoke from his cigar. "Don't you have a date you should be on?"

"Yeah, and I want you to stay at your table."

"I haven't moved from my table; you're the one who came over here," he said with a bigger smirk. "And I'll stay here as long as he keeps his hands to himself." I rolled my eyes at him again. "Stop rollin' your eyes at me."

"You've been following me all night. I think I have the right to at least roll my eyes at you."

"I told you I was gonna watch out for you."

"Watching _out_ for me and actually _watching_ me are two completely different things."

He gave me another sly smirk. "You better get back to your date; you don't wanna keep him waitin'."

I shook my head and turned towards Rogue. "I suggest you order the most expensive thing on the menu and make him pay," I said before giving him a smirk of my own and turning to go back to my table.

"Are you okay?" Tony asked once I had sat down across from him once again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said. "Sorry about that, though."

"Are you sure everything's fine? That didn't look happy."

I let out a sigh. "That's my dad. And he's been following us."

He stole a look over at him before looked back at me. "He looks a little…"

"Scary?"

"I was going to say like a serial killer, actually."

"Well, you are the profiler, so you would know, wouldn't you?"

"I don't know that I have ever seen anyone look like that before."

I laughed and caught Logan giving me the eyebrow from out of the corner of my eye. "He can hear you," I said.

He gave me a panicked look. "Are you serious?" I nodded. "Is he going to kill me?"

"Although he looks like he might, and it wouldn't be out of his nature to do so, I think as long as you keep your hands to yourself, you'll be fine," I said and gave him a wink.

He smiled. "I'll do my best."

The rest of the dinner went great, despite Logan sitting just across the room, watching us. He was nice and fun and witty and I really enjoyed spending time with him. But when dinner was over, it was almost ten o'clock, and even though Logan was there, I had promised him I would be home at ten-thirty. And he had never said he was going to be there when I got home. So we left and he drove me home. When we got to the mansion, he stopped just outside of the gates and opened my door before helping me out of his car.

"Thank you for tonight, Tony; I had a really nice time."

"You're welcome Miss Rivers; I had a nice time, too."

I cocked my head at him. "Why do you call me Miss Rivers?"

He gave me a smile. "My mother always taught me to respect a woman, and that I should only call a woman by her first name if she tells me to."

"Well, Mr. De Luca, you may call me Jayden."

"Thank you," he said, "_Jayden_."

I smiled back at him. "You're welcome."

"Do you mind if I ask you a bit of a personal question?"

"It depends on how personal it is."

"I know it was kind of dark at the wedding, but I thought your hair and eyes were different colors. Did you do something to them?"

"Not quite," I said. "They sort of changed on their own. And so did my teeth."

"They changed on their own? How?"

"Apparently it's part of my mutation, or something. I'm not real sure and it's taking me a long time to get used to it. I'm not so keen on the whole thing."

"Well it doesn't look bad; it's just different from what I remembered."

"Yeah, it's different from what I remember, too," I said quietly. I looked up at him and forced a small smile. "Thank you for not bringing it up, though… Until now."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to -"

I held up my hand. "Don't, it's fine," I said, my smile becoming less forced. I opened my mouth to say something else to him, but the words were taken from me as my sight began shifting, it blurred, and when it came back into view, I was in the woods.

I looked around me, the morning light barely shining through the ceiling of overlapping branches. The air was cold and snow had made its way through the trees and covered the ground in sporadic patches.

There were no sounds.

There were no people.

There was nothing but cold and frozen ground.

And then I turned around. The girl was almost impossible to see. She was covered in dirt, and rocks, and twigs, and snow had fallen over her. She blended right in with the forest floor.

I walked to her slowly, carefully, and looked down into her lifeless face. Her mouth was twisted in the shape of an 'O', as if she continued to silently scream from her death.

Her skin was a purple-blue color that showed she was both dead and frozen.

Her hair was black and dirty, and I watched as snowflakes fell between the canopies of trees above and caught on the strands that encircled her head like a morbid halo.

And her eyes were gone, but the sockets weren't bare. Maggots and other bugs crawled in and out, using them as an entrance to her body.

I stared at her, watching as a cockroach crawled out of her mouth, and I wanted to scream.

My sight shifted. Everything blurred. And when my sight came back into focus, I was standing in front of the school with Tony once again.

The vision was over.

"What just happened?" he asked.

"There's a girl," I said. "She's in the woods."

"What?"

"There's a girl in the woods. She's dead. She's been dead for a while. Her body's frozen, but there are bugs living inside of her."

"What are you talking about?"

"I saw another girl in your case," I said, looking him in the eye.

"Just now?" I nodded. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. She was the same as the other girl, but she's been dead longer."

"Let me get my notepad," he said, getting into his car and looking through the glove box. He pulled out a notebook and closed the door. He took the pen from the inside of his suit jacket and looked at me a little nervously.

"You work with psychopaths and you're nervous about working with a girl who sees things?" I asked, slightly teasingly.

He cleared his throat and tried to gain his composer. "Sorry," he apologized. "I've never worked with anyone like you before. It's a little -"

"Creepy?"

"- Disconcerting."

"Well, try actually having to see it."

He nodded his head and did his best to look professional. "Can you tell me what you saw exactly?"

"A girl. She looked about sixteen or seventeen, I guess. She was in some sort of wooded area. She was wearing blue jeans and a white sweater. But you couldn't really tell because she was covered in so much dirt and snow, she almost blended in. She was white, she had black hair…"

"Do you…do you remember seeing anything else?"

"Bugs were crawling out of her. Out of her eyes and ears and her mouth."

"Did you see any blood?"

"No, I don't think. She was pretty muddy, it could have been there and I just didn't see it, I don't know."

"What about a name?"

"Alice Grayby. It may not be _her_ name, but that's what I was getting."

"Okay," he said, writing down everything as I told it to him. "You said it was in the woods?"

"Yeah."

"Do you remember hearing anything that would give you a hint to where it might be near? Like cars, if it's near a highway or a road, or people talking, if it's near a trail? Maybe the sound of water, like a river, or something?"

"There weren't any sounds."

"So there were no unusual sounds."

"No, there weren't _any _sounds," I repeated. "I didn't hear _anything_. No animals, no water, no cars, no people, _nothing_."

"Is that common?"

I shook my head. "No," I said. "This vision and the one I had of the last girl are the only two visions I've ever had without sound. I don't know why."

"You really see all of that?" I nodded my head silently. "That's…amazing."

"Yeah, I guess."

He gave me a confused look. "You don't think it is?"

"I'm kind of tired of seeing dead people, you know? I'm tired of death in general, actually. I don't know what happens to us when we die and I don't want to see it. It's not exactly amazing to me anymore, not when I see that sort of thing. The novelty has sort of worn off."

"You're scared of death?" he asked.

"I don't know about scared, but confused definitely. What about you?"

He stuck his notebook into the pocket on the side of his jacket and let out a sigh. "I'm supposed to be just a criminal profiler, I'm only supposed to tell the real agents who the bad guys are, but I've come face to face with a few of them. The first time I had a gun stuck in my face, I think I almost wet myself," he said. "And I would appreciate it if you didn't repeat that to anyone."

I shook my head. "I won't."

He nodded. "So that was the first time. But the second time, there was this guy who had these two sisters, they were about twelve and eight, and he…he messed them up pretty badly. They were alive, but just looking at them, you wouldn't really know. And he stuck this Uzi right to my head, told me I had to leave, or he was going to kill me. He was looking me right in the eyes and he wasn't lying." He paused for a second and I watched something flick across his eyes. The memory of that night danced in his mind and felt it.

"I felt like I was looking death right in the face and as scared as I was, I didn't care. Because even if I didn't know those two girls, my job was to protect them. They were something worth dying for and if it hadn't been for five other agents showing up, I _would_ have ended up dying for them. The way I see it, you should find something worth dying for, and you should live your life so that when you do die, it's worth it. You can't escape death, no one can, but you shouldn't fear it."

"Something's are easier said than done, though."

He nodded. "Yeah, they are. But something's are worth putting the effort in to do them. No one knows for sure where we go when we die, we don't know until we get there. And fearing death is pointless. You see that when you look right in its eyes." He gave me a small smile. "I guess I better let you go in. Despite all of this talk of death, I would prefer it if your father didn't kill me." I laughed. "But I wish you would let me walk you to the door."

I felt my cheeks flush hot in the cold air and smile. "I wish I could let you, but I'm afraid the school's rules prohibit anyone from visiting without an appointment."

"Are you serious? You have to set up an appointment to visit someone here?" I nodded as I continued to smile. "Well, I don't have to visit; I just want to walk you to the door."

"Okay, hang on just a second," I said. I walked over to the intercom system by the front gates and pressed the button.

"Yes Jayden?" I heard Xavier say, and I swear I could hear a smile in his voice.

"Sir, would it be possible for my date Tony to walk me to the front door?"

"Just to the front door?"

"Yes sir."

"Yes, that would be fine."

"Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome," he said. As soon as his voice faded from the intercom, the gates began to open.

"And your wish is granted," I said jokingly, turning back to Tony.

He smiled and joined me as I began to walk up the walkway to the mansion. "That is a very big house," he said.

I laughed. "That's because it's a school, too."

"It's still big."

"Yeah, it took me a while to get used to living here," I said as I felt his hand brush against mine. I looked down and saw him thread his fingers through my own as he held my hand. I looked up at him and smiled. "Very smooth."

"I wanted to do that during the movie, and dinner, and the ride here."

"And you didn't why?"

He shrugged. "I had no idea if your dad was still watching us. And to be quite honest, he's a bit scary."

"You didn't know he was at the movie."

"No, but you kept using your hands to cover your eyes."

I laughed. "All right, fair enough."

I liked the feeling of his hand holding mine. It was big and strong. We walked to the front entrance and stopped just outside of the doors and he let go of my hand. He stood facing me, and the Christmas lights hanging from the mansion created a beautiful effect as I watched the snow fall around us.

"Thank you, Tony," I said again. "I really enjoyed myself tonight."

"Good, I did, too," he said. "And I would love to do it again sometime."

"Yeah, I would like that."

"Good," he said, looking into my eyes. "I would like that, too."

I felt myself moving towards him and saw him doing the same. Our faces grew closer and I closed my eyes, anticipating a kiss. My first. The perfect ending to a wonderful night.

I heard the front door open. "Jayden – oh, sorry, was I interrupting something?" Scott asked.

I opened my eyes and bit my tongue to keep what I really wanted to say to him from escaping my lips. I shook my head. "No, he was just giving me a…hug…goodnight," I said, stammering out the lie in the most unbelievable tone of voice.

"Oh, okay," he said. "I heard voices out here and just wanted to make sure everything was okay." He eyed Tony through his glasses. "Everything _is_ okay, right?"

"Yeah, I was just telling her goodnight," Tony answered, unfazed by the edge in Scott's voice.

"Good," he said. "Sorry to interrupt." Then he went back inside and closed the front door with a heavy 'thud'.

I let out a sigh and shook my head. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he said. "But that's him, isn't it?"

"Who?"

"The other guy. The one you're in love with."

"No, he's just…he lives here, and…stuff."

He gave me a bigger smile. "Aside from the fact that you don't lie very well, I've worked in profiling for five years; I _know_ that was him."

"I'm really sorry," I said. "It's just kind of complicated, you know?"

"Love always is."

"I guess."

He cocked his head at me. "He's the first guy you've ever been in love with, isn't he?"

"Yeah."

"And he has no idea?"

"I really don't think so, no."

He nodded. "You should tell him."

I looked in his eyes. "What?"

"You're a beautiful young woman, Jayden, and you seem very smart, you're a lot of fun and I really enjoy spending time with you. But if you're in love with someone…you can't just ignore that."

"I can't tell him. He doesn't feel the same way."

"How do you know?"

"Well I don't really, but -"

"No buts. If he really means something to you, then you need to tell him. What's the worst that could happen? He'll say no?"

"Yeah, that would be slightly devastating, actually." He laughed. "It would be; I'm serious. He's my friend, too. He's not just a crush, or whatever. I don't know what I would do if I lost him as a friend."

"If he's that good of a friend, it won't matter what you say to him," he said. "Look, you have to make your own mind up about this, but if things don't work out between the two of you, you have my number. And I always have my cell phone with me."

"You're a really good guy, Tony."

"That's what they keep telling me," he joked. He leaned down and gave me a soft kiss on my cheek. "Goodnight Miss Rivers."

"Goodnight," I said.

I watched him walk to the end of the drive and waved back when he turned and gave me a small wave when he reached the gates. Then I went inside. I hung my coat up inside the closet and made my way to the kitchen. I had a sudden craving for _anything_ sweet. Instantly regretted it the moment I entered the room.

"Hey, sorry about interrupting you outside. I didn't realize," Scott said as I walked in.

"It's fine, don't worry about it," I said curtly, moving to the freezer. I dug out a pint of Half Baked from the back, where I had hidden it from the other students.

"So was that Tony?"

"Yep." I grabbed a spoon and sat on the opposite end of the island from him, where he was drinking what looked to be hot chocolate. "That was him."

"I didn't know he lived here."

"He doesn't. He was just visiting."

"Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," I said, taking a bite of the ice cream.

There was a moment of tense silence before he finally let out a heavy sigh and ended it. "Look, I'm really sorry I interrupted your kiss, I didn't mean to."

"It's fine," I said, my voice flat.

"No, I know it was your fist kiss-"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it would have been, right? Unless you kissed when you first met, or something."

"Why would you assume it would be my _first_, though?"

"Not your first, just your first with him," he said, suddenly sounding embarrassed. "Or not."

"Why do you care?"

"Look, I know you're mad at me, but I said I was sorry. And I am."

"You came out there on purpose; you knew I was out there."

"I didn't realize you were there with _him_," he said. "Why would I interrupt your date on purpose, Jayden? That doesn't make sense."

"I don't know why. But I know that you're lying about accidentally interrupting, because you knew what you were doing."

He gave me a heated look I could feel despite his glasses hiding his eyes. "I would appreciate it if you would stay _out_ of my head."

"I'm not _in_ your head, my powers don't work like that, Scott. I can only tell if you're lying or not. And you are."

"Why would I be lying about that?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me?"

"I was checking on you. I heard your voice and I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I was fine."

"All right. I'm sorry. I was just a little worried about you."

"I can take care of myself, you know? I'm not a little girl."

"I never said you were."

"But you treat me like one."

"How do I treat you like a little girl? If anything I treat you older than I should."

I shook my head. "Whatever," I said, putting the lid back on my ice cream. I stood and took it to the freezer and put it back in its hiding place. I was rinsing my spoon off when I heard him mutter something under his breath. Something that almost made my heart stop. I turned back around to face him. "What did you just say?"

"I said…I never should have let you kiss me," he said quietly, standing.

"What are you talking about?" I asked as he walked behind me to put his cup in the sink.

"Last week," he started and I heard his breath shake. He took a deep breath and exhaled as I waited impatiently to hear what he was going to say. "Last week when I said you came into my bedroom to ask for a book, I lied. You came in there but…you said you were in love with me and you kissed me."

I turned around to face him. "_What_?" I asked, my heating finally picking up speed and beginning to pound hard in my chest as my body started shaking. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because it was awkward enough as it was. When I found out you didn't remember it, I thought it would be best to leave it that way."

"You thought it would be best for me to not remember that? _Why_?"

"Because you were just…sleepwalking."

"You don't confess your love for someone when you sleepwalk, Scott," I snapped.

"You didn't confess your love. You were asleep; you didn't mean it. You didn't know what you were saying," he said. I could look at him anymore. I could feel my heart pounding wildly in my ears and tears were threatening to fall. "That's all it was, right?" I didn't say anything. "Right?" he asked again.

I nodded. "Yeah," I lied, my voice shaking. "That's all it was."

I heard him swear quietly and felt a pain coming from him that only added to the one I already felt in my chest. "Why didn't you say something?"

I looked up at him, not caring to fight the emotions washing over me. I was too tired to fight anymore. "What was I supposed to say? You're my best friend; I didn't want to lose you."

"So you never said anything?"

"How was I supposed to tell you?"

"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "I really don't know." I watched him as he struggled with himself. He wouldn't look at me and when he finally did, I felt wave after wave of emotion hit me. That's when I felt my tears start to fall. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted quietly.

"I can't…I can't be what you're wanting from me, Jayden. I'm sorry."

"Why?"

"Because…" He stopped and shook his head again. "Because I'm married."

"Jean's _dead_."

"I know; I was there. I saw it."

"I saw it, too. And I told you that you scared me when I saw you that day. I had never seen _anyone_ love another person that strongly before. That scared me, until I finally felt it for myself."

"Yeah, you told me about that, but you were talking about Logan."

"I was talking about _you_!" I said, crying. "I am in _love_ with you, Scott."

"You _can't_ be," he said. "That's not part of the game."

"_What_ game?"

"The one where we get to flirt and have fun with each other, but we stay behind the line. We don't go over that line Jayden, because then everything get screwed up and it's not innocent anymore. You can't be in love with me," he said. "Because then I might start feeling the same way."

"Why _can't_ you feel the same way?"

"I have a _wife_."

"She's not here, Scott; _I_ am! I'm _here_. And I'm telling you that I love you."

"Don't do this," he said, his voice shaking. And as I watched him, I saw a tear fall from under his glasses. "I never should have let you kiss me because I can't get it out of my head, and I know it was wrong. I'm still in love with Jean, and I always will be. I still see her, I can still _smell_ her. And you don't _deserve_ that. You deserve someone who loves you completely. Not someone who's using you as a substitute for their dead wife."

"I don't care."

"But I do," he said. "I'm sorry I can't, but…I just can't. And I'm _so_ sorry. You have no idea what you mean to me."

"Don't," I said, shaking my head. "Don't do that to me."

"I'm _sorry_," he said. "I really am."

I nodded my head and wiped the tears away with the back of my hand. "I'm sorry that you thought kissing me was a mistake. But at least it's one you'll never make again, right?"

"I didn't mean it that way."

"Why not?" I asked. "It wasn't part of the game."

He shook his head and swore again, his voice angry. "I didn't want to do this to you. I didn't _plan_ it."

"And you think I _planned_ falling in love with you?"

"No, I don't," he said.

I tried catching my breath, but my crying was making it hard. And the fact that I was standing in front of Scott, telling him that I loved him and hearing him say that he couldn't be what I wanted from him didn't help. I stood there crying, unable to breathe, and I knew what was coming next. I knew what was happening when my vision started to darken. And it scared me, so I fought it. But I couldn't and that only scared me more. I felt the panic rise up in me, but I couldn't stop it. I felt lightheaded as my vision closed in. I felt myself begin to fall. And then the darkness took over.


	23. Love And War

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, FOX, or the title of this song, but I do actually have a job now! Not that I'm going to get paid enough to actually buy the rights to any of them, but it's money. Please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

I blinked my eyes against the bright lights above me and instantly felt a headache start pounding in my head. I knew where I was, I had woken up there enough times to by then to know right away. I pushed myself up in bed, despite the pain in my head, and sat up. I looked over to my right and saw Logan.

"How're you feelin'?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess. I have a headache, though," I answered, my voice cracking.

"I'll see if Hank can get you something for it when he comes back," he said. "Other than that how do you feel?" I shrugged silently. "You want me to kill him for you?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You sure?"

"Would it make me stop hurting?" I asked quietly. My voice was hoarse, from what, I didn't know, but it only made my voice seem even lower than it was.

But he had heard me.

"No, it won't," he said.

"Then there's no point in it."

"It'd make me feel better."

"You're not the one that's heartbroken."

"I am watchin' you."

I looked in his eyes and knew he was telling the truth. It hurt him to see me that way. "How did you know what happened?"

"He told me."

"What did you say?"

"I told him if he ever hurt my baby like that again, I'd rip his freakin' guts out."

"_Why_ did he tell you?"

He shrugged. "'Cause he's an idiot."

"He's not an idiot," I defended.

"He is if he hurt you like that."

I gave him a small smile and shook my head. "How long was I out?"

"About twenty minutes, maybe thirty. I'm not real sure."

"When did you get home?"

He looked at his watch. "Fifteen minutes ago."

"Was Rogue really mad at you after I talked to you at the restaurant?"

"For a little bit. I think she forgot about it when we got home and found out you were down here. She said to tell you she hopes you feel better."

I nodded. "Tell her I said thank you."

"Yeah, I will."

I didn't say anything for a while as I tried to get some sort of grasp on all of the thoughts running wildly through my mind. My first kiss had been with Scott, but I couldn't remember it and he had called it a mistake.

I had told him that I loved him and he broke my heart by saying he couldn't feel the same way.

I had lost one of my best friends because I wasn't able to control my emotions enough to lie to him. I hadn't been able to tell him that what I had said to him in his room the week before was just something I was saying in my sleep.

I knew at that moment, our relationship was changed for forever. Even if we ever got to the point where we could be friends again, it would never be the same. Never.

"Why does it have to hurt like this?" I asked, picking at a loose thread on my dress.

"I don't know, baby."

"Do you know how to make it stop?" I asked, feeling my eyes begin to fill with tears once more, despite my best efforts to keep them at bay. I let out a breath and looked back up at him.

He shook his head at me. "No. But if I could, I'd take it away for you."

I nodded and tried taking slow, even breaths and fought back my tears, afraid I would bring on another panic attack. "Can I stay down here tonight?"

"Yeah, if you want."

I nodded again. "I do," I said. "And will you stay here with me?"

He gave me a half smirk, even though his eyes stayed sad. "I was plannin' on it, whether you wanted me to or not," he said. "You want me to try to find you something to sleep in?"

"Yeah."

He got up and searched through one of the closets in the infirmary until he found a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt closest to my size. I was still wearing my date clothes and went into the bathroom to change them. There was something about getting out of my restricting clothes and putting on pajamas that made me feel better, even if my situation still wasn't great.

I was getting back into bed when Hank walked into the room. "I see you found some pajamas," he said, walking over to my bed and standing beside me. "And I'll take it that you're staying down here tonight."

"Is that okay?"

He gave me a kind smile before bending and giving me a kiss on my forehead. "It's perfectly fine with me, sweetheart. Just get some rest; you've had a hard day."

"She said she had a headache when she woke up," Logan said.

"Is that so?" Hank asked, looking into my eyes. His face was mere inches from mine and there was something so warm and comforting about his pale blue eyes.

"Yeah," I said. "It's not as bad as it was, but it still hurts."

"Then I will find something for that, my dear."

"Thank you."

He gave me another quick kiss on my forehead. "You're welcome," he said. "It's the least I can do."

Once he left, I settled down into my bed and did my best to keep my tears from coming back. I closed my eyes and took deep breaths, like I did when I meditated. I tried blocking out all other thoughts and sounds and focusing on just my breathing.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

I felt the bed shift slightly and looked to see Logan beside me. He kissed me on top of my head and held my hand tightly in his. "Everything's gonna be okay," he whispered in my ear. "I promise."

"I know. It just hurts right now."

"It'll get better."

"Okay," I said. "I trust you."

He gave me another kiss on top of my head. "Good."

"Just don't even leave me, okay? Because I really need you, even if I might tell you I don't."

"Like when you're throwin' books at me?" he asked with a small smile.

I laughed. "Yeah, even when I'm throwing books at you," I said. "And I'm sorry about that, by the way."

"I know. You were mad and you were havin' a hard day. Just try not to do it anymore, alright?" he said. "And I'm never gonna leave you. No matter what you throw at me."

"Even if it's something really hard?"

"Even if it's a ton of bricks. It would hurt, but I wouldn't leave," he said with another smile.

I smiled, too. "Good, because you know I might; I do get my temper from you after all."

"And you didn't have a temper before you met me?"

"Yeah, but before then I had impulse control."

He laughed and I felt it roll through him and there was something so incredibly comforting about that sound from him, that everything seemed to fade away.

Every pain.

Every worry.

Every fear.

Every pain.

Because when I was with him, I felt invincible. Even when the dull ache I still felt in my heart said otherwise. But I was with him, I was with my father, and he was making me smile and laugh. He was holding me in his arms, and kissing my forehead. And when I was like that, when I was in his arms, I could feel nothing but strength.

* * *

The new week came and went and time did nothing to help with the pain I still felt. I went to school, I worked in the Danger room, ate, slept, and did it all over again the next day. If I wasn't going to school, I was helping Logan with his classes. I usually helped Hank when I had the time, but I needed to be with Logan. He kept me too busy to think about anything that was going on. And when classes were over, we would do a three hour training session in the Danger Room. The long work out zapped all of my energy and other than taking a shower and shoveling down dinner, I wasn't capable of doing anything else other than sleep.

But sleeping wasn't so great. Because that's when the nightmares came. They would always start the same. With me seeing one of the victims from the Blind Man Murders, ones that had already been found, and sometimes more than one. Then I would see myself in some sort of hospital room. And then it would end the same way; seeing a pair of headlights shining brightly in my eyes as they grew closer, closer, blinding me until that was all I could see.

Then it was gone and it was replaced by another nightmare. Only they weren't just odd fragments of my imagination, they were real. They were vision. And they were the ones that always haunted me. Every night I was seeing one hellish vision after another, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.

Visions, mostly, of horrible torture experiments performed on Logan by the same sadistic doctors who had taken away his memories. I was tired of not getting any sleep, but even more than that, I was tired of watching them hurt Logan. I had seen things before that had disgusted me and that had shaken me to the core. But what I saw them do to him exceeded anything my mind was capable of understanding rationally. I couldn't fully grasp the reasoning behind what they did to him. It wasn't just that they experimented on him, but they tortured him in ways that went far beyond sick; they were evil. They abused him in every way possible; physically, mentally, sexually. And I had to watch it all. I felt it all. And when I woke up, it didn't go away; it stayed with me. I was stuck with images of the strongest, bravest man I had ever known being pushed to the edge, almost breaking him.

But the night, two weeks before Christmas, the nightmare I had was of a different kind.

I saw a couple in a heated moment that people other than themselves weren't supposed to see. It was a private moment of passion between two people who were supposed to love each other. And I had laid witness to it. But that wasn't the nightmare.

I woke up, my breath shaky and my forehead was damp with sweat.

"You okay?" Logan asked, half asleep from where he was lying beside me. He had made good on his threat to not let me sleep alone after my incident with the scissors.

"Yeah, just had a weird dream," I said. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

He cracked open an eyelid and looked at me. "You sure?"

"Yeah, sorry."

My nightmare hadn't been the same as the ones I usually had, but it still scared me somehow. I had seen Scott and Jean making love. But instead of thinking about him, she was thinking of Logan.

My father.

Scott was dedicated to a wife that was dead, but when she was alive, she hadn't been as dedicated to him as he was her. He gave her his life, even in her death. He gave her his happiness, his love, his everything.

And she couldn't even give him her thoughts.

I didn't understand. How could she do that to him? The only thought that was running through my mind was the one Logan had asked when he and Scott had gotten into their argument before Thanksgiving, when Scott had punched him. He had said that Jean was in love with him, and Logan asked if he was sure. That question had played in my mind over and over since he had asked it, and part of me wondered if he was right. After my vision, I knew he was. She hadn't been as in love with Scott and she was actually torn between him and Logan.

But her thoughts hadn't been too torn. They were focused on Logan and I couldn't get that out of my head. I couldn't get the images, the thoughts, the feelings, out of my head. And I didn't know whether I wanted to vomit or cry.

I was so confused.

But who wouldn't be? The answer to every question that played in my mind seemed just out of reach. My thoughts on love and how it was supposed to be began melting away to reveal a bitter underside. I had seen Scott and Jean on their wedding day, and the emotions of their complete and utter happiness had been so overwhelming for me. And to go from that to seeing how she felt for Logan, the feelings she should have had for her husband, Scott, made me sick to my stomach.

I got out of bed and went into Logan's bathroom. I sat down on the cold floor, pulled my knees to my chest and hugged them to me.

I used to think that when you loved someone, you loved them forever. I thought that was how it was supposed to work. When you get married, it's even in the vows; for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part. _Death_.

Even fairytales preached the idea of a life time commitment. When the prince would rescue the girl, they would always ride off and live happily ever after. I was far too old to believe in fairytales, and I knew that _no one_ lived happily ever after. But I thought that despite arguments and fights, if we loved someone enough, we could make it through the 'ever after' part pretty happily. Because we _loved_ them.

My life for the past year and a half was continuously being turned upside down. Just when I thought I was getting a nice footing, the rug was pulled out from under me, and I was left confused, once again.

My mother hadn't loved me enough to keep me, even though I was her daughter.

My parents claimed they loved their son so much that they couldn't see him suffer through life, and they took it away from him.

Mark loved my mother so much that he _begged_ me to lie to her so that she could die peacefully.

Scott loved Jean so much that even in her death, he continued to be faithful to her, even when she hadn't felt the same. She didn't love him the way he loved her.

And a man who hadn't been in love with my mother was capable of loving the daughter she gave birth to. Logan had taken care of me and showed me an unconditional love that couldn't be broken, even when he had left me when I was first born.

Love didn't make sense. It made people do crazy things and hurt like Hell at times, and yet it was still touted as the greatest thing any person could ever experience.

And I didn't understand a single thing about it.

How could a mother not love their own child?

How could two people like my parents just give up and stop loving each other?

How could a man be so completely in love with his wife and fail to see her waning feelings for him?

Love scared me. Probably even more than death. Maybe because I hadn't quite experienced death, though I had walked along the edge of it quite a few times. But I had experienced loved. In some degree, anyway. And I had felt that love turned away. I felt what it was like to not have my feelings reciprocated.

Was anything real? Was anything permanent? Or was it all just temporary? Did things like true love only exist in fairytales? Were they just myths we were fed to appease some weird part of our brain that needs to believe in something, _anything_, and we picked the most powerful emotion to glorify? Because if nothing else, love was powerful. It could make us the happiest we've ever been, or the saddest.

And right then, I was leaning toward the saddest part.

"What're you doin'?" Logan asked, walking to the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, causing his white T-Shirt to bunch in the middle. He looked concerned and still half asleep.

"Just thinking."

"On the bathroom floor?"

I shrugged. "Why not? You keep it clean."

He moved from the doorway and sat on the edge of the tub right beside me. He put his hand on my shoulder and moved it back and forth in smooth, even strokes that moved towards my back as he tried to think of what to say. "All right, you gotta tell me what you dreamed about, or I ain't gonna be able to help you, darlin'."

I looked up at him, careful not to really look him in the eyes for fear he might see the dream for himself. "I'm not really thinking about the dream. I'm just thinking."

"It's three in the morning and you're sittin' on my bathroom floor, but you're _just_ thinkin'?"

I let out a sigh. "Pretty much."

"I'm not buyin' it, kid."

"Do you remember all the women you used to be in love with?" I asked.

"Kind of," he said. "I remember little things, but not all of 'em. Why?"

"I was wondering, if you remember them, would you still love them? Or would it be different because of Marie?"

"That's a lot for three in the mornin', darlin'," he said with a sleepy sounding chuckle. "Scoot over." I moved over in the floor to give him room to sit down beside me. He wrapped one of his arms around my shoulder, pulled me to his side. "I'm not exactly the person you wanna get love advice from, you sure you wanna ask me?"

"I don't want your advice; I want to know what you think."

He took a moment before answering. "I think if I really remembered 'em, I would still love 'em, yeah. And Marie wouldn't make it any different 'cause they're dead, but I'm not. Not yet."

"So you think you can fall in love more than once?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"Can you fall out of love with people, then?"

"I don't know," he said. "Why are you thinkin' about that?"

"I don't know. I guess this whole thing with Scott's just made me think about it," I lied.

"You're gonna find someone better than Summers," he said, giving me a kiss on my temple.

"I don't think I will."

"You're only nineteen; you got time."

"But what if I find someone and fall in love with them, and then ten years down the line they tell me they don't love me anymore?"

"That's not gonna happen to you."

"Why not? My parents were married for nearly twenty-two years, and they're getting divorced."

"You're not like them," he said. "Do you understand that? You're nothing like 'em."

"How do you know someone's not going to leave me, though?"

"'Cause I'd kill 'em."

"Do you plan on killing every boy who hurts me?"

"I don't see why not."

I smiled. "Just checking."

He gave me another kiss on my temple and rested his forehead on the side of my head. "Stick with me kid, and we're gonna get through this, all right?"

"Yeah," I said as I snuggled up close to him, wrapped my arms around his waist and rested my head on his shoulder. "Do you know what today is?"

"Sunday."

"No, I mean do you know what happened on this day last year?"

"No," he answered honestly.

"I was at home in California, wrapping Christmas presents when my mom brought me a box I got in the mail. When I opened it, there was my Jimmy Durante CD and a letter you'd written me."

"That was a year ago?"

I nodded. "Yeah. And it was the same day when Scott came and told me that I could live at the school."

"And you remember that?"

"Yeah, I was so excited when he said that you wanted me to come live here. I thought I would never see you again. You have no idea how much it meant to me for you to ask me to come live with you."

"There was no way you were gonna get rid of me," he joked, and I could see him smile slightly.

"I guess we're just stuck with each other, then."

"Well, you ain't such a bad person to be stuck with, darlin'," he said, giving my forehead another kiss.

"You're not such a bad person yourself, furry-face."

"You ready to go back to bed now?"

"You mean you don't like sitting on your bathroom floor?" I laughed.

"Yeah, it's great if you like you backside bein' numb."

"What, you don't?"

He looked down at me and smiled. That moment that small, simple gesture made me forget about all the worries that I had been thinking about that night. Every problem melted at the sight of him, my father, Wolverine, smiling at me. Because right then I realized that people in my life could come and go, they could tell me that they loved me, leave me, and then break my heart. But he was always going to be there for me. He was the one person I could depend on, and the only person I could trust my heart to.

I knew he loved me. It wasn't just something I thought, or believed simply because he told me. I knew it because I could feel it. I felt it in every part of me, covering me like a blanket. There were no words to describe it, but I knew what it was. It was an unconditional love like nothing I had ever felt. It was an absolutely amazing, breath taking type of love that at times overwhelmed me to the point of tears. The thought that someone could love me so completely, so strongly, and so abundantly was beyond more than I could understand. But then again, I felt the same way about him. I adored Logan. He was my hero. And maybe that's why it felt so incredible to know he felt the same about me.

I sat there that morning beside him, looking up at him smiling at me, and suddenly I realized what I had become; a daddy's girl. I had always pretended to be that with my father, but never really felt that way about him. I loved him, but it wasn't the same. And with the revelations of the 'vision' Logan had recalled to me the month before, I had to come to wonder if my father was the man I had always assumed he was. But Logan was different. If he asked me to, I would follow him to Hell and back.

And that's when I realized I knew what love was; it was him. It was feeling safe and cherished and adored. It was everything he made me feel. That had always been the difference between him and my father. My dad would tell me and show me how much he loved me. But that was it. Logan forced it on me, making absolute sure that I had no doubt in my mind that he loved me. He made it very clear to me about how he felt. He left himself open for me to read and I knew above all else that he loved me. And there was nothing that could shake that.

"I love you, Logan," I said, looking up at him, in his eyes.

He pushed the hair out of my face before stroking a broad knuckle across my cheek. "Right back at'cha, kid," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "Now let's go back to sleep, 'cause I don't plan on crawlin' outta bed for breakfast until after noon."

I laughed. "Sounds great to me."

"Why don't we go out for breakfast when we get back up? That way we ain't gotta deal with Scooter and the rest of these geeks until tomorrow night."

I nodded. "I could do that."

"Good," he said, giving me a kiss on the space between my eyes. "Come on, let's go to bed. I'll keep your nightmares away."

"You promise?"

"Yeah baby, I promise."

A simple promise made by my father to keep my nightmares away was all it took for me to feel safe enough to go back to bed. I went to sleep again that night with Logan right beside me and as he promised, I didn't have anymore nightmares.

* * *

"So what are you doing for Christmas break?" Bashar asked,

The weekend had passed and we were waiting for our last day of school to be over with so that our winter break could officially start.

"I don't know. Probably just sleep," I answered.

"Lucky. I have to go to a ton of family Christmas parties. I hate going to those stupid things."

"Yeah, me too," I mumbled, not paying too much attention to what he was saying.

I was listening to Gacy, the suck up kid in my class. I usually didn't listen to him because he was always full of crap, but he had said one word that had caught my attention.

"There's no such thing as adamantium. Some weird guy who lives in his mom's basement and reads too many comic books came up with it."

"How do you know it's not real?" I asked him.

He looked over at me and gave me an annoying look, like my question was almost too dumb to answer. "There's no way you can make something that's indestructible."

"They make Kevlar, why couldn't they make a metal just as strong?"

"Because Kevlar's not indestructible; they say adamantium is. That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because _nothing_ can be indestructible."

"Says who?"

"Says anyone with half a brain. It's just a myth the government made up to scare people."

"I thought you said it was something a guy who lived in his mother's basement and read too many comic books made up?"

"He did, then the government picked it up."

"Because we all know that the government gets its ideas that way," Bashar said sarcastically. "You're full of it Gacy, you know that, right?"

"What? Do _you_ believe it exists?"

"Maybe," he said. "And maybe we have aliens in Area Fifty-One. I don't know. But the government making it up just to scare other countries doesn't make sense to me."

"Who said they were using it to scare other countries?"

"Why would the want to scare Americans?"

"Not Americans," Gacy said. "Mutants."

"Okay, now we know you really are full of it," Bashar said.

But I was curious. "Why would the government make up a fake metal to scare mutants? Who, by the way, would still be Americans."

He gave me an exaggerated eye roll. "Don't you ever watch the news?"

"X Files doesn't count as news," Bashar said and I couldn't help but smile.

"Funny," Gacy said dryly. "But for those of you who would rather be ignoring what's really going on, I'll explain it slowly for you, so you can understand it." He pushed his sliding glasses up to the bridge of his nose and made sure that the other nine students and our teacher were watching him. "The real threat to out country isn't the terrorists from other ones. It's mutants. And they live right here, with _all_ of us."

"And pause for dramatic effect," Bashar muttered to me. I laughed quietly and shook my head.

"But what does adamantium have to do with mutants?" I asked.

"I was getting to that," he said, giving me an impatient look. "The government created the idea of adamantium so that any mutants who thought about attacking the White House would get scared."

"So why did a mutant break into the White House and attack the President like, two years ago?" one of the other students named Leila asked.

"Because he obviously figured out that it was just a conspiracy."

"Okay, so _assuming_ what you're saying is true, even thought it's really just a bunch of bull, do you agree or disagree with the idea of the American government fictionalizing a type of metal in order to protect themselves from mutants?" I asked.

"If you were listening, you would understand that I _disagree_," he said. "Because mutants _are_ a real threat. We need to think of _real_ ways to protect ourselves from them. Like starting the Mutant Registration Act and locking them all away."

"Why?" I asked.

The class suddenly all turned to me. "Why?" Gacy repeated, his voice holding forced amusement. "Because they're _freaks_, that's why. Do _you_ feel safe knowing they're out free, roaming around, hurting people?"

"Yes, I _do_ feel safe, because I don't automatically assume that just because someone's DNA makeup is different than mine, that they would hurt someone. Yeah, some mutants are violent. But guess what? Not all of them are. The same way that night every Muslim is a terrorist and not every black person hi-jacks cars. Some of them do, yeah, that's were stereotypes come from, but some white people steal cars, and some terrorists don't commit crimes in the name of _any_ religion. There are exceptions to every situation. So unless you want to take _all_ of them, innocent _and_ guilty, and lock them up, then it doesn't work. People make choices for themselves and while religion, or social standing, or even the ideas of having 'powers' may influence the choices you make, it doesn't determine them. People do."

"Do you think we should protect potential terrorist, criminals, and mutants?"

"No. I think we live in a country where we're free to worship any God we choose, we have the freedom to make any choice we want and have to pay for the bad ones we make, should we make them, and that people who are born with a different DNA shouldn't be discriminated against because they're not the norm. And I don't entirely agree with you grouping mutants along with terrorists and criminals, either."

"So you think mutants should be given a 'fair chance'?" he asked, his tone condescending.

"I think every person deserves a fair chance, Gacy. But since the media feeds us the same crap of _all_ mutants being dangerous, that's what we believe."

"So you think the media _lies_ about all of the mutant attacks we have?"

"No, I think that in the same way where a hundred people can have a gun and use it properly, and _one_ person can go off and use their gun to shoot ten or twenty people and we hear about gun registration is how it works with mutants. A hundred can use their mutants without any sort of violent, but the moment _one_ of them does, the media jumps all over it. They glorify violence, so that's all we see. If they dedicated half as much of their time that they spent showing negative images of mutant, or _any_ other stereotype, then people would realize it's not as common as they think."

"So you think it's the media's fault that mutants _kill_ other people?"

"No, I think it's the media's fault for showing that killing people is a way to get attention."

"And so you blame the media, who bring us the truth, but you feel safe with the mutants?"

"You know what I _don't_ feel safe around? Racist bigots like you. You and your little theories are _why_ so many people end up killing other people or themselves. Because you can't get past you own ideas. They're so set in your mind that you don't have room for the truth."

"I'm not _racist_," he said offended.

"Mutants are another race of humans, if you hate them, that makes you racist," I said. "And I'm not telling you that you should feel sorry for mutants you see on TV killing people. But I'm not telling you to leave your doors unlocked at night, either. But you can be accepting while being cautious. People aren't defined by their race, or religion, or where they live. They're defined by their actions and how they live."

"So I'm wrong for judging them, but it's okay for you to call me a racist?"

"Yeah, because I'm calling you out on your actions and I'm not grouping the rest of the class with you. I'm not saying you can't single out a person whose done wrong and say something about it. If you're going to base your opinions on actions done by an individual, then your opinion needs to stay with that person. It doesn't need to be carried over to the next, or all, mutants you see."

He looked at me, giving me a sly smirk. "I'm curious, how much did your parents hate you when they found out _you_ were a mutant?" he asked. He only meant it to be a dig, just to piss me off. I could feel it from him that he didn't actually think I was one. He just thought I was a stupid freak who didn't know what I was talking about.

"I don't know. How much did you mother hate you when you were born to name you after a serial killer?" I shot back with a smirk of my own that would have made Logan proud and Bashar gave my hand a high-five under the table.

The clock on the wall made a light ringing sound and we all looked up at it. "As much as I'm enjoying listening to the two of you argue and call each other names, I'm afraid it's time for you to get out so I can teach my next class," our teacher said. "But please, feel free to continue this outside."

I grabbed my bag and shoved my book and notebook into it. I was supposed to be meeting Bobby for lunch at the deli across the street and wanted to hurry. I assumed he was probably already there and I didn't want to keep him waiting any longer than he already had been.

I pulled on my leather jacket, wrapped my scarf around my neck and slung my bag onto my shoulder. Then I got in line to file out of class with everyone else. Once outside, I jogged across the street where Bobby was waiting, holding out a cup of hot chocolate for me.

"Are you okay? You look a little upset," he said as I took the cup from him.

"Yeah. I just got into a bit of an argument in class."

"With who?"

"You know that idiot kid Gacy?"

"Yes, I have a math class with him. He's so annoying."

"Tell me about it," I said. "Anyway, he brought up something after class and tried to convince everyone that adamantium doesn't really exist, the government just made it up to scare people, because nothing is actually indestructible."

"Did you tell him that you've seen it cut through people like a hot knife through butter?"

"No, that really would have caused quite a reaction."

He laughed. "That's true."

"But it actually gets better," I said. "When I asked who the government wanted to scare, he said mutants, so then we got into an argument about that, because he doesn't know what the heck he's talking about. And when he realized that I actually _do_, he got real smart and asked how much my parents hated me when they found out _I_ was a mutant."

"What did you say?"

"I asked him how much his mother hated him to name him after a serial killer."

He stared at me for a moment. "Yeah, I don't get it."

"There was a serial killer in the seventies named John Wayne Gacy. He killed like, twenty-seven men, or something. He used to lure people in by throwing parties and dressing like a clown to get kids to come. Which is really just another reason for me to hate him."

"Oh, well, that makes more sense now."

I laughed and took a sip of my hot chocolate. "You ready to eat lunch? I'm starving," I said.

"Yeah, let's go. I'll buy you a cookie for standing up for us muties," he said quietly with a smile.

"Deal."

There were times when people could really get under my skin. I didn't understand why some people were so ignorant that they could hate _all_ mutants. But it was times like that, when I could be myself and know that I was understand that made up for it. Bobby only offered to buy me a cookie, yeah, but it was the difference between arguing for my rights as a mutant and being able to be comfortable and safe with who I was.

It only I had known then how that would all change.

* * *

After lunch, Bobby and I split up and each went off to our own classes. I was on my way to my English One class when I heard someone mutter something as the passed by me. I almost dismissed it until someone else muttered something to me as the passed by me as well.

They were calling me a mutant.

By the time I reached my class room, five different people had muttered something to me in passing about being a mutant. And when I got to English One, I found out why.

As I reached the class room, I saw Gacy standing in the doorway, giving me a stupid smirk.

"I'm going to assume that that smirk is because the students calling me names as they pass by me is _your_ handiwork," I said.

He gave a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe they're just judging you as an individual for your actions," he said sarcastically.

"So I have an opinion that's different from yours, and probably a little bit more educated, and you get everyone to call me a mutant. How mature of you."

"I didn't tell them what to do; I just told them what you said. And if you don't think mutants are bad, then you won't mind people calling you one," he said. "Will you?"

"If you're trying to prove a point, then go ahead, Gacy. I'm not giving up on my own opinion just to make myself popular. You and everyone else can call me whatever you want. I'm above your childish games, all right?"

He continued to smirk at me. "We'll see," he said before turning around and walking away.

I just wanted to make it to winter break without any problems. Was that really _so_ much to ask?

* * *

The rest of my school day was like that. Everywhere I went, every class I walked to, someone was giving me a rude look or muttering something about either being a mutant or a mutant lover. I never realized how hated we were until suddenly, within the course of a few short hours, the whole school seemed to be acting out against my opinion.

I thought about how sad it was that they all fell in line with the belief that all mutants were purely evil beings who wanted nothing more than to eradicate humans. They refused to use logic and think for themselves. I was watching mob psychology working at its best. If a group of people were fed an idea, soon the whole group would believe it. And that's what had happened to me. Gacy had made a comment, or a suggestion, and it had spread like fire across the whole school. Unless the other people who agreed with me wanted to be treated the same way I was, they decided it would be best to fall in line with everyone else.

As I was walking towards the parking lot at the end of the day, I thought about how ironic it was that as confused as I was about what I believed in, I was criticizing other people for their lack in their own personal beliefs. Because even though I didn't have a lot that I believed in, what I did was educated or based on experience. And because of that, my beliefs were stronger than theirs. They were unwavering and they didn't give way to peer pressure.

I was almost to the parking lot when I felt something hard and heavy hit me suddenly in the back of my head. For a moment my vision blacked out as my eyes reacted to the impact. I stumbled slightly but caught my balance before falling down. I turned around to see I guy I had only seen a few times before while walking around on the school grounds. He was giving his friend a high-five. I looked at the ground beside me to see a medicine ball like the kind people used to work out with lying a few feet away.

He had thrown it at my head.

"What the heck is wrong with you, dude?" I yelled at him, feeling a headache beginning to pound in my skull.

"Sorry, I guess it just slipped," he said. "_Freak_."

That was it. I was done. If they wanted a reaction from me, then they would get one.

I dropped my backpack to the ground and took off my scarf, throwing it down beside my bag. I walked over to the two guys as the laughed at me.

"You need something?" the guy who hit me asked.

I didn't say anything. I just smiled.

Then I punched him.

After the first punch, everything seemed to be a blur. I remembered hearing a crunching sound and vaguely remembered thinking it was probably his nose. I threw a couple more punches and kicked his feet out from under him. When he hit the cold ground hard, and had the breath knocked out of him, his friend tried to grab my arm and pull me away. I didn't think as I threw back my elbow and hit him right in the fact. Then I put the heel of my boot against the guy's throat and looked down at his face as it gushed blood.

"If you _ever_ hit me again, I swear I'll stick my stiletto heel through your jugular, is that understood?" He didn't say anything. I ground my heel further into his neck, knowing it would leave a bruise that wouldn't fade for a long time. "Is that understood?" I repeated.

"Y-yes," he gasped, trying to pry my boot from his throat.

"Good. Now apologize to me."

He looked at me like I had lost my mind. "I-I'm sorry," he said.

I gave him a smile before moving my foot. I bent down to his face and looked at the blood covering it. "I didn't mean to break your nose; I guess it just _slipped_," I said, giving him a wink.

I stood up and turned around to go back to my bag. When I reached it and was wrapping my scarf around my neck, I felt someone jab the points of their fingers roughly into my shoulder. I turned around to see a very large security guard standing in front of me.

"You're going to have to come with me."


	24. Running No More

Disclaimer: If I owned the rights to Wolverine, don't you think his solo movie would be out right now? And that he would have taken up permanent residence in my house? Sadly, neither one has happened. Yet. I hope ya'll enjoy the new chapter, this one marks the fact that this is now officially my longest fic ever. Whether that's good or bad, I don't know. But enjoy!

* * *

"He threw something at me, I got mad and I hit him back. I shouldn't have done it, no, but I lost my temper. That's all there was to it," I said for the fifth time that hour.

The security guard had ushered me to the Administrative Assistant's office while the guy I had hit, Nick Woodward, was taken to the hospital. A representative from the school went along with him to get his statement while I was pretty much being interrogated by my school's staff, including one of the psychologists that taught a psychology class there. I had been in the Administrative Assistant's office for almost two hours and had only been allowed to call home thirty minutes before.

"That's _clearly_ not all there is to it, Jayden," Mary, the psychologist, said. "You obviously have some anger issues. Would you like to discuss _why_? Or try to explain _where_ these angry feelings are coming from?"

"Yeah, they came from being hit in the head with a twenty-five pound medicine ball," I snapped.

"The only ball we found was fifteen pounds, and no one saw him throw it at you. He said if he did hit you, it was an accident and he didn't mean to," the Administrative Assistant, Mr. Glendale said.

"He called me a freak."

"You threatened to kill him."

"No I didn't!"

"He, along with _thirteen_ other students, reported seeing you put the heel of your boot to his throat and hearing you tell him that you would stick your stiletto heel through his jugular."

"But I never said I was going to _kill_ him."

"Jayden, we really need to talk about why you would want to hurt someone like that. He has a broken nose, a fractured cheek bone, and his tailbone is cracked. Not to mention that his friend, who everyone saw try to protect him, also has a broken nose. Why is it that you felt the need to react that way?" Mary asked.

"Because he _hit_ me."

"No one saw him."

"Do you not have any security cameras here? Seriously, what if something other than me hitting someone happened? What if someone brought a gun to school? You would even be able to identify them."

"Are you threatening to bring a gun to school, Jayden?" Mr. Glendale asked.

"No, I'm not. I'm saying that if you can't have the proper amount of security to be able to watch the grounds of your school, then I don't know how safe I feel going here."

"The students question their safety with you here as well."

"With me? What have I done to make anyone feel unsafe?"

"They're saying you're promoting terrorism and terrorist rights."

"_What_? That's _not_ what I said. I had a discussion in one of my classes with one of my classmates about judging people based on what race they were born into. We were having an argument about mutants when I said that not all mutants are violent people, the same way that not all Muslims are terrorists. I didn't say anything wrong; I was just stating the truth."

"That's not what they're saying."

"And this is clearly a case of their word against mine," I said as there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Glendale said. I heard the door open and the sound of something being pushed through the doorway. "Good afternoon, Professor Xavier. Thank you for coming down here."

I looked over my shoulder to see the Professor being wheeled into the room by Scott. Xavier looked at me and let out a sigh. "Jayden, would you wait outside with Scott while I had a word with Mr. Glendale."

"Don't you think I should be in here to give my opinion on the situation?"

"I think you've done enough for today," he said firmly. "Now please wait outside with Scott while I speak with Mr. Glendale."

"Yes, sir," I said and stood up.

I grabbed my backpack and left the room. As if things couldn't get worse, I had to wait outside with Scott. The two of us hadn't said probably more than ten words to each other since confessing I was in love with him. And now it was going to be just us. He walked out behind me and shut the office door behind him. Mr. Glendale's office was part of an outside building, so as soon as we stopped out of the room, we were outside in the cold. I walked over to one of the benches facing the street and sat. He followed and sat beside me.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked.

"About what?"

"About your face."

I looked over at him, confused. "What are you talking about? I didn't go to the doctor."

"They didn't take you to the doctor?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You have a black eye and your nose looks like it's been bleeding."

"It was earlier, but I thought it was just bleeding. I don't remember ever getting hit."

"They why did you hit him?"

"Because he threw a medicine ball at the back of my head, one that was like fifteen pounds, and he called me a freak."

"How badly did you hurt him?"

"They said I broke his nose, fractured his cheek bone and then cracked his tailbone."

"How did you crack his tailbone?" he asked with a slight smile.

I shrugged. "I knocked his feet out from under him. I guess when he fell like an idiot, it cracked."

"Well, the Professor's going to take care of it for you."

"Good," I said. "Where's Logan?"

"With Storm. They had to fly to New Hampshire for a small mission."

"Did he leave before all of this started?"

"He was getting suited up when we got the call. I didn't get the chance to tell him."

"That's probably a good thing," I said. "I'm sure he's not going to be too happy when he gets home, though."

"Not if you still have a black eye when he gets back. He'll probably take one look at it and want to know who did it. Then he'll track him down and kill him. That seems to be the only way he knows how to deal with things."

"I actually meant he wouldn't be too happy with _me_."

"Why would he be upset with _you_?"

I looked over at him. "I got into a fight at school."

"Do you remember who your father is? I'm sure he'll be pretty pleased with you. Especially since you won."

"We'll see," I said, touching the skin around my eyes. The left side was sore and I assumed that was the one that was bruised.

"Well maybe you shouldn't have gotten into a fight if you thought he would be so upset about it."

"Yeah, I guess I should have thought about that when the kid was throwing things at me head," I said sarcastically.

"You could have walked away; you didn't have to go after him."

I turned to him on the bench. "Look, I don't know who told you that I needed a lecture, but they were wrong, okay? I've gotten crap from everyone all day, I have a headache the freakin' size of all of Texas, I apparently have a black eye and I might get _sued_. I'm a little bit worried about what Logan might say, yeah, but I don't regret what I did. I stood up for myself, and I don't need this from you, Scott."

"Xavier's not going to let you get sued," he said.

"That's great, I'm glad _that's_ what you go out of that," I said sarcastically, rolling my eyes and folding my arms over my chest.

"Why are you mad at _me_?" he asked.

"Just for today or altogether?"

"Both."

"Today would be because you show up all self-righteous, like you're so far above ever losing your temper and I'm just pathetic for giving in and actually hitting someone."

"I never said I was above losing my temper and I didn't say you were pathetic for losing yours," he defended. "I don't understand why you're so mad at me constantly. Honestly, can you just tell me what I did to piss you off _this_ badly?"

"You broke my heart. That tends to piss women off, Scott."

"I didn't _mean_ to hurt you, Jayden, you know that. You mean a lot to me."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Tell me that I mean a lot to you. I'm pissed at you and suddenly _I'm_ ruining our 'friendship', or whatever? From what I remember, you're the one that wanted to take a break."

"And from what I remember, you said you would wait for me."

I was so tempted to rip his glasses from his face and look him in his eyes, screw the consequences. I was sick of looking at him through red lenses.

"There's nothing left to wait for," I said quietly, feeling tired and angry tears begin to form. "I'm in love with you and you don't feel the same way about me. Our relationship, whatever it was, is over. Maybe men and women aren't meant to be friends. Because one of them things it's a game and the other gets hurt."

"I never said our relationship was a game."

"Yes you did. And that hurt," I said. "I know guys are idiots and generally don't think before they speak, but seriously Scott, that was just about the worst thing you could ever say to me."

"I'm _sorry_. The last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt you, that was never my intention. I know you don't want to hear it, but you mean _so_ much to me, Jayden. I want you to understand that."

I sat back against the bench, my arms still folded firmly across my chest. I shook my head as a few tears finally made their way down my cheeks. "And you don't think you mean a lot to me?" I asked. "You're the first person I've ever been in love with. I've never felt this way about _anyone_. You were my best friend, I could tell you anything. And that's over, and that's why I'm pissed." I looked over at him. "I lost my best friend."

"You didn't lose me; I'm still here."

"It's not the same. It's awkward, because you know how I feel about you. And from now on you're going to be so careful about every word you say and every little thing you do when you're around me, because you're going to be afraid that I'll take it the wrong way."

"No I won't," he said. "I trust you and I know that you won't take anything I do out of context. Not unless I tell you my intentions are otherwise. Alright?"

I didn't say anything as I closed my eyes, trying to keep my breathing even and put a stop to the rest of my tears. I felt him take my hand in his and squeeze it tight.

"I'm right here," he whispered in my ear and I felt more tears fall. "You _never_ lost me, and you never will. As long as you'll have me, I'll be here. I never meant to break your heart, I promise, and if I could give you what you want, I would. But I can't, and I'm sorry. I really am. You will never understand how much you mean to me. I never imagined how much a nineteen-year-old girl would turn my life around, but you did. You make me smile and laugh. And I love you so much in a way you will never understand for that. And even if I never love you the way that you want me to, I'm still here. I always will be."

I felt the tears pouring down my face and before I could realize what I was doing, I had fallen into his arms and buried myself into his chest as I sobbed. I wanted things to make sense. I wanted to understand why things had to happen the way that they did. Why did people have to feel pain? Why did we have to hurt? I cried in Scott's arms knowing that I was wrapped in them because he loved me, but crying because I also knew he didn't love me the way I wanted him to.

I wanted things to be simple.

I wanted clarity.

I wanted answers.

I wanted Logan.

* * *

"She needs a _what_?" Logan yelled angrily.

"She needs a CAT scan," Hank answered. "The school staff, for whatever reason, saw it unnecessary to take her to the hospital after she was hit in the head. She has a mild concussion, but I need to make sure that nothing else is wrong."

"All right, fine, you give her the CAT scan and while you're doing that, I want the names of the kid that hit you and the idiot teachers that didn't do anything about it."

Logan had just gotten in from New Hampshire to find me in the infirmary with Hank. He'd cleaned up my bloody nose, put a cold compress on my black eye and diagnosed me with a mild concussion. But he waited to give me the CAT scan because I was nervous about it and wanted Logan to be there with me.

"Logan, I don't think Jayden telling you their names would be a very good idea."

"I just wanna know who did it."

"Liar," I said, tilting my head back as my nose began to bleed again.

"What are you doing?" Hank asked me.

"My nose is bleeding."

"I can see," he said, handing me a tissue. "But I ask you again; what are you doing?"

"I'm trying to get it to stop, isn't this what I'm supposed to do?"

"Yes, that would be ideal if you wanted to drown in your own blood," he said, tilting my head forward.

"And I don't want to do that?" I joked.

"You don't want to do that," he said. "Keep a tissue under it and keep the bridge of your nose pinched for about five minutes to stop the blood flow."

"Huh?"

"Head down, pinch nose, wait for five minutes."

Logan looked at me as Hank walked away and went into the next room. "What's the name of the boy that hit you?" he asked, looking me in the eye. His tone was low and serious.

"I'm not telling you his name," I said, my voice sounding nasally and funny from where I was pinching my nose.

"Yeah you are."

"What's the point? It's not like I'm going to be seeing him any time soon or anything."

"When you get back from you winter break you are."

"Uh…"

"'Uh' what? Did he get expelled or something?"

"No," I said. "I did, actually."

"They expelled you?" he yelled.

"Suspended," Hank corrected, walking back into the room.

"Why did _she_ get suspended?"

"Because she threatened to kill him."

"I never threatened to kill him!" I said, my voice still sounding odd. "All I said was that I was going to stick my stiletto heel in his jugular, that's it."

"Which would result in him dying, yes?" Hank said. "And besides, your shoes weren't stilettos." Logan and I both gave him identical looks. He let out a sigh. "Stiletto heels are named such because they resemble a knife of the same name. It's a very thin, pointed knife. The heels of you boots aren't quite as thin, nor as sharp."

"See kid, you tell 'em in court you weren't even wearin' those kind'a shoes. That's like callin' a water gun a shot gun and threatenin' to shoot 'em with it. It doesn't count."

"I'm not going to court. The Professor talked them out of suing me," I said. "But I'm still not going to push my luck and let you beat the crap out of him."

"Well how long did you get suspended for?"

"Two weeks."

"So you're expelled for your winter break?"

I shook my head. "No, I get those two weeks off, then two more weeks tacked onto it. So I'll be out of school for like, a month."

"That ain't too bad; at least you get a break."

"Are you freakin' serious? I got _suspended_. That's not a break; that's a punishment."

"Stop talkin' 'til your nose stops bleedin'. I can't take you seriously soundin' like that."

"You never take me seriously anyway," I mumbled.

"I heard that."

"All right, Jayden, when your nose stops bleeding, I want to get your CAT scan done. Do you have any questions about it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good. Now you can listen to music, do you have any requests?"

"Can I listen to my Jimmy Durante CD?"

He gave me a kind smile. "Absolutely. Would you like me to go get it for you while you try to stop the bleeding?"

"Yeah. It's in the CD player by my bed."

"Okay, I'll be back. Keep the pressure on the bridge of your nose; it'll stop the bleeding faster."

Once Hank left, Logan hopped up on the bed beside me. "You nervous?" he asked.

"About what?"

"The CAT scan."

"Yeah, a little bit."

"Why?"

I shrugged. "I just don't want him to find anything wrong."

"Just hope he actually finds something up there," he said, rapping his knuckles lightly against my head. I looked over at him and he smiled. "He's not gonna find anything wrong. He's just gotta do it 'cause you got a concussion and those freakin' morons at your school didn't have you looked at. Then you can go to bed and sleep, all right?"

"Can I sleep for the rest of the month?"

"You think that'll help?"

"No, I think running away and leaving town would help."

He wrapped his arm around my shoulder, draping it loosely. "What would runnin' away help?"

"You would be amazed how being away from people so you don't have to live up to their expectations can lower your stress levels."

"Who are you runnin' from, then?"

"Everyone," I said, taking the tissue from my nose. It had stopped bleeding. "Except for you."

"Why?"

I turned to him. "What do you mean _why_? You run away from everything; you _know_ why."

"Yeah, well, I was hopin' you'd turn out better than me," he said. "So we're not runnin' away. You can stay in bed, eatin' ice cream and watchin' girl movies, I don't care. But we're not runnin' away again."

"Why not?"

"'Cause that'd make it four times this year. It ain't even been a month since the last time we left. You can't keep runnin' from everything."

"Well that's great coming from _you_."

"I don't care who it's comin' from. I'm not lettin' you turn out like me."

I laid my head on his shoulder. "Why don't you want me to turn out like you?"

"Have you ever met me?" he asked sarcastically.

"Yeah."

"Well then you know no one thinks I'm Superman, kid."

"I do," I said. "Only you're cooler, because the whole underwear over the clothes thing is _really_ dorky."

He laughed and gave me a kiss on the side of my head. "Well I never wear underwear, so it's all right."

"Ew, dude, I so didn't need to know that."

He laughed again and I felt it vibrate through my body. "Well, at least you won't have to worry about me wearin' 'em on the outside of my pants."

"I was really counting on your common sense to keep you from doing that, actually, but I guess whatever stops you from the temptation is good enough for me."

He didn't say anything else, he just smiled and gave me another kiss and pulled me closer to him. We waited in silence until Hank returned.

And then it was time for my CAT scan.

Hank put me into the tube and soon my music started playing and I tried my best to relax. But I was nervous and I couldn't quite get my body to rest. I felt antsy until I heard Logan telling Hank to change the music, and soon the first few notes of 'I'll Be Seeing You' began to play and I felt my body begin to relax. The music was familiar and comforting and I took slow, deep breaths as the song played.

How quickly that was all about to change.

* * *

"There's a mass," Hank said, hanging up an X-Ray he had taken from my head. "It's not a tumor, but it's in the brain."

"What do you mean? If it's not a tumor, then what else could it be? What else could cause a mass like that?" I asked, my voice rising as I quickly began to panic.

"It looks like an energy mass."

"Is it dangerous?" Logan asked, concerned.

"No, it doesn't seem to be. Her body is designed to hold more energy than most, so that doesn't seem to be a problem."

"Then how'd it get there?" Logan asked.

"I'm not quite sure. Although the location in the brain would explain your memory spasms as well as your mood swings."

"_What_ mood swings?" I snapped.

"Exactly," Hank said.

"Oh…sorry."

"It explains your angry outbursts and although it may not have initially caused the depression you've been feeling, it could be aiding it. It also explains your sudden emotional bursts, where you've been crying more than normal."

"Can you get rid of it?" I asked.

"I don't know."

"Is there anything you _do_ know?" Logan demanded.

Hank gave him a look. "Yes, I do, but they don't exactly teach you about energy masses in medical school. I'm only going by what I personally know."

"Then maybe I should take her to another doctor."

"Feel free to do what you think is best for Jayden. I won't try to persuade you to do otherwise, but like I said; they don't teach you about energy masses in medical school. If you take her to an emergency room, which is the only thing open at this time of day, then they're going to know even less that I. I can at least treat her as a mutant, other doctors can't."

"Then _treat_ her," Logan said. "'Cause if you can't, I'll find someone who will."

"I think perhaps that Charles should be down here. I think he may be able to see how the mass is effecting the brain and I might know how to treat it properly, or at least come up with a few ideas on how to treat it."

"Then go get him," Logan said.

I watched Hank walk away and I felt sick to my stomach. After the CAT scan, which took about forty minutes, Logan found me some pajamas and gave me another cold compress for my black eye. Then Hank printed out the X-Ray pictures and posted them on the light board in his office. That's when everything got bad. The moment he uttered the words, 'There's a mass', I felt my stomach churn. I knew there was probably something wrong, but I didn't know just how bad it would be. And the fact that Hank was admitting he didn't know how to treat it only scared me more. He was a genius; if he didn't know what to do, then who did?

"I don't want to die," I said quietly to Logan.

"You're not gonna die, baby, you're gonna be fine," he said, pulling me into his arms and against his chest.

I shook my head. "No, this is bad Logan, it's real bad."

"No it's not, 'cause Hank's gonna fix it, he's gonna take care of it for you."

I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks before I realized I was crying. "I'm scared."

He held me tighter. "Don't be, I'm right here."

"What if Hank's wrong? What if it is _a_ tumor? I don't want to die Logan, I'm scared."

"It's gonna be okay, you're gonna be fine."

I pulled away from him. "I have something in my brain!" I yelled. "That's not okay, that's not _fine_!"

"Calm down," he ordered.

"Don't tell me to calm down! _You_ don't have something inside your head that's not supposed to be there. _You_ don't have to worry about being sick, _you_ don't have to be scared of dyin! _I_ do." Tears poured down my face as my body shook from my sobbing. "My mother is _dying_. She has a tumor. What if it runs in my family? What if I have one, too? What stops me from dying and not her?"

"Because you are not her!" he yelled back, pointing his finger at me. "You are her daughter, but you _not_ her, and I am _not_ gonna let you die."

"You can't stop it, you can't keep from dying."

"You're not gonna die," he said, grabbing my arms and forcing me to look at him. "You can't die on me, kid, you _can't_. You're gonna stay here 'cause I'm not gonna let you go. I'm not done with you; I'm not ready to let you go, yet. So you ain't gotta choice, darlin', you don't _die_ on me."

I fell back into his arms, a sobbing mess, and he held me up. I buried my tear stained face into his chest and balled my hands into fists, grabbing the back of his shirt and holding on tight. His arms wrapped around me, embracing me. And I cried.

Death had always been scary to me, but as a child, I never imagined how scary it could be. I feared the pain. I feared the suffering. I feared never seeing Logan again. But I also feared that I didn't know _what_ happened when we died. I was scared of the fact that if I dropped dead right there and then in Logan's arms; I didn't know what would happen to me. I knew that my body would be there, cold and empty. But what would happen to me? My soul, or spirit, my consciousness, my being. The part that makes me, _me_. Tony had told me not to fear death because no one knows where we go until we actually get there, but it wasn't quite so easy for me. I wondered if we go somewhere higher. Would we become part of the earth? Would we disappear and as those who knew me grew older and forgot about me, would my being be forgotten, too?

Do we really only exist as long as we love someone and that someone in return loves us? Can we be immortal as long as we're remembered? If our memory is kept alive, are we kept alive, too? If we remember someone, all their good and bad, and honor that memory, does that make them just as alive as before, only without their body?

I've heard stories of people who've lost their mother, or their son, or their wife, and because they missed them so much, they've seen them. They've spoken to them. And I wonder if they just imagine it, if their mind knows that they need to see them so desperately that they make the eyes believe that they are seeing them. And does that make you crazy, or is it the only way your mind knows how to hold onto your sanity? Or doe these people _really_ see them? Is it possible that when we die, we can come back to those we've loved and who loved us, and show ourselves to them to comfort them? And if it _is_ possible, then do we live _here_ when we die? Are we allowed to stay with our friends and family and watch other them, or do we live somewhere else completely and can only see them when they need us?

I wondered about reincarnation, if it really existed. Could we come back, choose to be born again, and live another life? And when death finally closes in around us, is there a clarity that we get that makes life so truly amazing that we would want to live and die all over again?

Life was complicated, it was full of confusion and disappointments and heartache, but there is something so beautiful about it that I never quite realized until my first brush with death. The phrase 'stop and smell the roses' doesn't always mean to literally stop and smell flowers. It means to take time out of your day and do something small, something simple. Because _that's_ life. It's made up of a bunch of small moments. It's the things that make an impression. And as complicated as life was, I wasn't done with it yet. I wasn't ready to die yet, I wasn't finished living. I had so much left to do. And maybe that's what scared me, too.

Death doesn't care if we're ready to die; she takes us anyway. She comes to claim us when she feels she should and most of us are never prepared for it. She decides when our life is over, and she pulls us down into the murky depths along with her.

Death doesn't care if we're someone's mother, or son, or wife. It doesn't care if we have people who need us, or that we've finally found people that _we_ need.

Death is unsympathetic.


	25. Merry Christmas Baby

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything, but I'm not getting money off it either, let's call it even? Besides, tomorrow's my birthday so it would suck if you sued me. Please enjoy!

* * *

"The energy mass isn't a danger to you, but Henry was right in assuming it was the reason behind your memory loss and mood swings," Xavier said.

By the time he and Hank had come to the infirmary, Logan had gotten me calked down enough to sit. But while we were waiting for them, he had talked me down from having two panic attacks. Hank had offered to give me something for my nerves, but I didn't want it. Whatever it was always made me sleepy and I wanted to be as alert as possible to hear what the Professor had to say. He had just finished reading my mind completely, trying to figure out if it was affecting me in any way, and I had never felt so exposed in my life. But he gave me a warm smile and sent me thoughts of comfort until I was okay again. That's when he announced that I wasn't in any danger.

But I was still scared.

"How'd it get there?" Logan asked, slowing rubbing circles on my back.

"Although I'm not positive, the only conclusion that I could come to was that in the fall, when she was stuck by lightening, she was having a vision. The lightening must have somehow caused the energy from the vision to fuse with her mind. And it seems to be that the dreams and visions she's been having of things she doesn't remember is because they're _not_ from her memory. They're from the girl or whom she was having the vision."

I let out the breath I hadn't realized I had been holding and nearly cried from just being happy. I felt sorry for the girl I had been seeing, but _my_ father had never hurt me. _He_ had never done anything to me. And I couldn't even put into words how much it meant to hear that.

"I also assume that it's the reason behind why you've been having so many panic attacks lately. You're not only housing your own emotions, but those of someone else. From what I could gather of the memories attached to the energy, she's very fearful of death. I think that might explain some of your recent worries, yes?"

I nodded. "Yeah," I said, my voice barely making a sound.

"So how do we get rid of it?" Logan asked.

"We don't. It's not _inside_ the brain, it's merely pressing against it, which is why she only has the nightmare sporadically. It's feeding on itself at the moment and was probably much larger only a few months ago. Eventually when there's nothing left for it to feed on, it will die and disappear on its own."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"No," he answered truthfully. "But that seems most likely. As I said; you're not in any danger. It may be a bother, but I think in a few more months it will rid itself for you. But until then, I think the fact that you know to separate your own emotions from her will be able to help you quite a bit."

I didn't know what to do. A part of me was still scared because I was so confused, but another part was completely relieved. I felt a sickness in my stomach from the stress and my body relaxed as I let my tension go. I let out another deep breath as Logan pulled me closer and I felt myself go limp against him. He gave me a kiss on the top of my head and I felt myself begin to cry again.

I was exhausted.

"So I'm okay? I'm going to be fine?" I asked, tired tears escaping my eyes and streaking down my cheeks.

The Professor took my hand gently. "I think you need some rest and you'll be quite all right," he said with a smile.

"Thank you," I said.

"You're welcome," he said, giving my hand a kiss before letting it go. He looked to Logan. "I think perhaps a night or two or supervision would be ideal, then she might be able to sleep on her own again."

"Yeah, I'm gonna keep an eye on her." He moved his arm from around me. "Thank you Chuck," he said, reaching out to shake his hand.

The Professor shook it and looked him in the eye. "You're welcome," he said. "Now I suggest you allow her to get some sleep."

As the Professor left, I fell back on the couch in Hank's office where Logan and I were sitting. I was tired from the day and full of mixed emotions. My day at school had been hard enough on its own, but to come home and find out there might be something seriously wrong with me, only to discover that I was fine, and not only that, but also the reason behind why I had been doing things I had forgotten and why I was suddenly so terrified of death. I was happy, and upset, and angry, and relieved, and pissed. I just felt _exhausted_. I closed my eyes, my tears ebbing and tried to forget everything that had happened. And soon I found myself falling asleep.

* * *

I opened my eyes groggily. "What's going on?" I mumbled.

"I'm takin' you to bed," Logan told me. "Go back to sleep."

"Are you carrying me?"

"Yeah, we're almost there."

"You're so sweet," I said, closing my eyes and snuggling up against him.

I felt a chuckle rumble through his chest. "I don't know about that, darlin'."

I stayed half awake as he carried me to my room and tucked me in bed. Then he lay down beside me. I felt his hand cover mine and let out a sigh at the comforting feeling.

"I'm sorry you had a rough day today, kid," he said.

"I'm just glad you were with me," I said sleepily.

He rubbed his chin against the top of my head. "Well I'm sorry I wasn't at school with you. I would've killed the kid who hit you."

"I know, but it doesn't matter. Thank you for being here for me when I got home," I said, drifting back to sleep. "Thank you for staying with me when I was scared."

"Don't worry about it, baby," he said. "Everything's gonna be fine now. I'm right here and you're gonna be okay, so just go to sleep."

"Okay. Goodnight Logan, love you."

He kissed the top of my head. "I love you, too, baby," he said. "I love you, too."

I fell asleep again that night beside my father knowing that everything was okay. He was going to take care of me. And I had never felt as safe as I did with him that night.

* * *

The days passed by and soon it was Christmas. The holiday was exciting for me because it was my first Christmas at the school and with Logan. But although I was excited about it, Logan wasn't too happy when I burst into his room at seven in the morning and started jumping on his bed singing 'Joy to the World'. He pulled my feet out from under me, causing me to fall on his bed, and told me to take the words to 'Silent Night' to heart and shut up. But I didn't, and after three choruses of 'We Wish You A Merry Christmas' he got up, slung me over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and carried me down the stairs. He sat me down just as we got to the dining hall and we went in together to eat breakfast. When we got to the staff table, Marie beamed at Logan.

"Mornin'," she said. "Merry Christmas."

"Yeah, merry Christmas," he said, giving her a wink, and I realized my stomach no longer lurched at the sight of him flirting with her.

I sat down at the table between Logan and Hank and looked around. Everyone was there, the Professor, Hank, Marie, Bobby and Storm was sitting by Xavier, looking rather bored. Everyone was there.

Except Scott.

"Where's Scott?" I asked, noting that my tone sounded more worried than I would have liked.

"He's outside," Hank answered.

"It's like, ten degrees outside. What is he doing out there?"

"He always spends Christmas with Jean," Storm said, giving me a cold look.

I really didn't understand why she hated me, but I had an overwhelming urge to piss her off further, and I hoped for once that karma would understand. "Well, I'm going to take him some coffee so he doesn't freeze," I said, holding back a smirk. I looked over to Logan. "Is that okay?"

He looked at me and showed the smirk I was holding back. He knew exactly what I was doing. "Why would I care?"

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're a heck of a lot nicer than I am, kid," he said, loading his plate with hash browns. "If you wanna do it, go ahead."

"I'll be back in a little bit," I said, standing. "Try not to eat all of the food while I'm gone."

I left the dining room for the kitchen and took one of the giant coffee cups down from one of the cabinets and filled it with coffee. I had watched him pour his own enough to know he didn't put anything else in it. At the door that led out to the garden, I stopped to pull on a pair of rain boots I had stored in the side closest. I couldn't find my own coat, so I pulled on one of Logan's and stepped outside.

The cold air hit me immediately and I felt a chill run through my whole body. I held the coffee cup tightly in both of my hands, trying to keep myself warm, and began my trek through the snow to Jean's memorial.

The garden that was once so full of hundreds of different flowers all in different colors and shapes was now hidden beneath a cold blanket of snow. The rose bushes were covered in mounds of the freshly fallen powder. But on one bush, a single red rose poked through the snow and shone brightly against the stark white background. And I wondered how long it would take it to die? How had it survived the cold weather? Better yet, _why_ had it? Why had it been allowed to survive but not the rest? I didn't know, and it didn't matter, so I kept walking.

By the time I reached Scott, my whole face, along with my toes, felt frozen. But the moment he looked up at me, I forgot all about it.

"Hi," I said.

"Hey."

"I thought you might be kind of cold out here, so I brought you some coffee," I said, handing him the steaming cup.

He gave me a small smile as he took it. "Thank you."

I shoved my hands into the pockets of Logan's coat and looked at the cold slab of concrete with Jean's profile etched into it. "Does she ever talk back to you?" I asked.

"No," he said. "I'm not crazy."

"Oh, no, I didn't mean – Sorry, I wasn't trying to say that you were – I was just…"

"Don't worry about it; I think I know what you meant." He took a sip of the coffee. "I talk to her for me. I do it because that's what I'm used to. I told Jean everything. I don't know if she can hear me or not, but I talk to her anyway, just in case."

"I'm sure if she can hear you, she appreciates it."

"Yeah, maybe."

Watching him hurt my heart. He was still so devoted to Jean, even in her death, and he had no idea that her thoughts and desires had strayed from him. It broke my heart, but it made me sick. Scott was a good man; he deserved someone who really understood that. I'm not saying Jean was a bad person, because I had never met her, but to be with him and want something else seemed horrible to me. Not so much that her heart had changed about how she felt in loving him, but that she didn't have enough guts to say anything about it. She was perfectly content to let him go on thinking she was madly in love with him when, in reality, she wasn't.

Logan was a good man, too. I thought he was amazing, actually. I completely understood why Rogue was in love with him and why nearly all of the girls, and even some of the boys, had crushes on him. He was a smart-aleck jerk sometimes, but despite it all, he had a certain charm about him that drove women mad, and a magnetic quality that drew people to him.

But if Jean had wanted Logan, they why didn't she say so? That's what bothered me. Why did she dangle herself in front of both of them? Why did she make Scott believe that she was still in love with him if she wasn't, and why did she make Logan think he could have her if he couldn't?

And why did I care so much about the actions or intentions of a dead woman?

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked, not looking at me.

"Okay." I sat down on the small, cold concrete bench beside him and I could feel his body heat radiating off him.

"Are you having a good Christmas?" he asked.

I shrugged. "I guess. I just woke up a little while ago."

He looked over at me. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Well…no. When I got to the dining hall, they said you were out here. I thought you might be pretty cold and might want something to warm you up."

He gave me a smile. "Thank you," he said. "But you don't have to stay out here with me."

I stood up. "Right, sorry, I guess you want your privacy with Jean, I'm sorry."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I just thought, you know, it's pretty cold out here," he said and then let out a sigh. "Look, this is really awkward, I'm sorry. I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"You're supposed to tell me what you want me to do. I can go back inside or stay out here. It's up to you."

"I don't know."

"All right, then I'll let you get back to Jean," I said, backing away from him with a forced smile. "Merry Christmas."

I turned around and began walking towards the house. I had only taken a few steps when I felt Scott's hand on my arm. I turned around to face him. He was standing up. "Thank you," he said, his tone serious.

"I just brought you coffee."

"I know, but…you have every right as a woman to hate me right now, and maybe you do, I don't know. But I appreciate that you thought of me. I don't know how much it matters to you, but that really means a lot to me."

"I don't hate you, Scott. I'm just confused and hurt…and maybe a little bit pissed." He smiled. "But it's Christmas; it's a day to be nice to people, right?"

"Yeah, I guess so," he said. "But you didn't have to be nice to _me_; you could have been nice to someone else."

"I'm not pissed at anyone else," I said with a small smile.

He nodded and smiled back. "Fair enough."

"Look, if it's possible, I still want to be friends with you. I know things are weird and awkward between us, but you mean a lot to me outside of…you know."

He put his hand on my shoulder and looked down into my face. "Then that means a lot to me, Jayden. I really want to be friends with you because _you_ mean a lot to me," he said. "What do you say; friends again?"

I nodded. "Yeah, friends again."

"Good," he said and pulled me into a hug. "I missed you."

I hugged him back and fought off tears. "I missed you, too," I said, hoping my voice sounded more convincing than I felt. I only hugged him for a moment before pulling away. "Are you going to come in and eat breakfast soon?"

"Yeah, in a little bit. I'm going to stay out here for a few minutes longer and I'll be in."

I nodded and gave him a bit of a forced smile as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Okay, don't freeze," I said and turned around to go back to the house.

The whole walk back to the school, my legs felt like they were shaking and I had to fight back crying. I wanted to be friends with Scott, but it was more complicated than I thought. He knew I was in love with him, and he tried to treat me like he always did, but it hurt knowing that he was just treating me like a friend. I was confused and hurt and I didn't know what to do.

When I got inside and had pulled off my rain boots and Logan's coat and put them away, I sat down in one of the chairs in the kitchen and tried pulling myself together. The last thing I wanted was for Storm to see me upset after knowing that I had just been to see Scott. I guess karma _hadn't_ understood my want to piss her off, because this was obviously my punishment for wanting to do so.

"Hey, you okay?" I heard after a few minutes of silence as I sat by myself. I looked up to see Logan standing in the doorway.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," I lied.

"You sure?"

I shook my head. "No, not really."

He moved from the doorway to the table where I was sitting and sat down in the chair across from mine. "You want me to kill him for you?" he asked, talking about Scott.

I gave him a small smile. "You just want to kill him."

"Yeah, but I won't, not unless _you_ want me to?"

"No, I think I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"No, I'm not sure of anything," I said. "Because _nothing_ makes sense."

"That's life, kid."

"Well it sucks."

"No one ever said it didn't."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Why don't you come eat breakfast and forget about him, all right?"

"I can't right now."

"Why not?"

"Because if Storm sees me looking this upset, she's going to love it. She hates me and she wants to know that Scott's choosing Jean over me."

"'Ro doesn't hate you, she just…doesn't like Jean bein' gone."

"Well it's not my fault that she's dead," I defended. "And it's not my fault that I'm in love with Scott, either. It wasn't like I was bored with my easy life one day and said, You know what? I want to make things complicated for me. I think I'll fall in love with the one man my father absolutely hates, my best friend, and someone who would rather be in love with a corpse than me. Because what's life without a bit of pain and heartache?" I let out a huffed breath and shook my head. He gave me a slight smirk. "What? Do you find this funny?"

"Yeah, 'cause one day you're gonna get over him. And you're gonna laugh about all this crap."

"When? When is all of this going to be over with and funny? Because right now, the situation is pretty freakin' humorless."

"Yeah, that's gonna be the funny part later," he said, standing up. I rolled my eyes at him. "Come on, get up. 'Ro ain't at the table anymore, she's already done eatin'."

I looked up at him. "You promise?"

"Yeah, I promise. Now come on."

I stood and walked over to him. He looked down at me and brushed the hair away from my face. He didn't say anything, he just looked into my eyes, but I knew what he was thinking. He wanted to protect me from ever getting hurt, and he couldn't, because that was a part of life. No matter how much either of us hated it.

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. I was still cold from being outside, but I felt the warmth of his arms as he wrapped them around me, too. "You know I love you, right? Even if I pick on sometimes? Because, you know, you pick on me, too."

I felt him smile, even though I couldn't see it, and he gave me a kiss on my cheek. "Yeah, I know it, darlin', and I love you, too. That's why I pick on you."

"Good," I said, letting myself fall into his arms and letting out a heavy, happy sigh.

"Aww," I heard from the doorway. Logan and I looked up to see Rogue standing there, smiling at us. "How sweet."

I laughed and pulled away from Logan some, assuming that he wouldn't want his 'girlfriend' to see him hugging his daughter of nearly the same age. But he wouldn't let me go completely. He let me out of my hug, but kept one of his arms wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me to his side.

"You already done eatin'?" he asked her.

"No. You were just gone kind'a long; I thought something might be wrong with Jayden. I just wanted to check on her."

"I'm fine," I said. "But thanks."

"Well let's go back to the dinin' hall, 'cause I wanna hurry and give ya'll your presents," she said.

I smiled. "Okay, let's go."

I never would have imagined a few months before that now only would I be acting nice towards Marie, but she would also sort of become one of my friends. She was close to my age and had gone through roughly a lot of the same things as me, and surprisingly I related to her. Yeah, I still had a hard time thinking about her and Logan together, but he was my father, I wanted him to be happy, and if she was the woman who made him happy, then I would learn to accept it.

Time does odd things to us. It changes us in ways we never thought possible. It can beat us down, bring us up, and make us completely different people. Time for me had given me the chance to be a better person. Even if something like karma didn't exist, the idea of it made me want to be nicer and do things differently. And time had taken my attempts and cemented them as habits; causing me to do things better without a thought. Even if I didn't get rewarded somehow for it, I didn't care anymore. It didn't matter. Because it was about me and doing things that would make me a better person. And I hoped my effort was enough.

* * *

"It's a camera," I said excitedly, unwrapping the present Hank had given me. "An expensive camera."

He beamed at me. "I thought perhaps you would like to start keeping an album of your new family, and I knew you didn't have one of your own."

"Thank you, I love it!" I said, hugging him and giving his cheek a kiss.

"You're very welcome, my dear. And I'm looking forward to seeing what you take."

"Well now I feel bad, I only bought you a DVD pack of movies you probably already have, and you got me a freakin' awesome camera."

He laughed. "I love my present you gave me, it's absolutely wonderful," he said, tapping my nose with his finger. "So thank you."

"You're welcome, I said, setting back on the couch in the living room where Hank and I were sitting that afternoon.

So far that day I had already received presents from Logan, Rogue, Bobby and the Professor. Although Xavier's present was just a Christmas card with three hundred dollars in it, it was quite possibly one of my favorite gifts so far, and Marie and I were already planning a trip to the mall the next week. She had also given me a really cool bracelet with a Hamsa Hand on it and explained that the charm was used in Indian and Hindu religions and believed to ward off the Evil Eye. I put it on immediately and hoped it actually worked.

After examining it for a few minutes, I put my camera on the coffee table in front of me and snuggled up against Hank. He had made hot chocolate for us and we were sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the fire. We had been sitting there for about five minutes when I heard the Professor's voice in my head.

"_Jayden, I need to see you in my office, please_."

"_Yes, sir. I'll be right there_," I sent back.

I stood up. "The Professor needs to see me in his office," I explained to Hank.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked.

"I don't know, he didn't say."

"Do you need me to come with you?"

"No, I think I'll be fine," I said. "Thank you, though."

I took my cup of hot chocolate and left the living room for Xavier's office. As soon as we got there, I knew something was wrong. Aside from the Professor being there behind his desk, Logan was there too, leaning up against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Your mother's husband Mark Joan called," Xavier said.

"And?"

"And the tumor in your mother's brain had grown tremendously in the weeks since they were last here." I didn't say anything. I just stood silently, holding my coffee cup, and waited for him to finish. "She passed away yesterday evening."

"Oh…" I said, sitting down in one of the chairs in his office. "Okay."

"He left the information to her funeral, if you wish to attend."

"I don't know," I said truthfully.

"If we leave today, I can get you there in three days, in time for the funeral," Logan said.

"But it's Christmas."

"I know," he said, unfolding his arms and ruffling the back of his hair. "You don't gotta go, no one here would blame you if you didn't. But if you wanna go, I'll take you. We can wait 'til tonight and leave and you can sleep through the right and we can get there in time."

"It's Christmas," I said again. "Don't you want to spend it with Rogue, or something? I don't want to waste your holiday driving me to Canada for my dead mother's funeral."

"It's not wastin' my time if you wanna go. I'll take you. It's up to you."

"I don't know," I said, shaking my head. "I don't know what I want to do."

I felt torn. She was my mother. She had carried me for nine months, taken care of me for four years, and at least had enough decency to give me over to a proper adoption agency where I was lucky enough to be adopted by my parents, who may have been a little strict on me, but they had always taken great care of me. And if it hadn't been for them, I don't think I would have been able to have ever met Logan.

But then again, she _was_ my mother, and yet she _had_ given me away. She never loved me like she should have and she never did right by me. It was only after she found out that she was dying did she finally acknowledge what she had done, and she only did so to ask for forgiveness so she could die with a clear conscious. It hadn't been to really mend things with me; she just didn't want to be lying on her death bed feeling guilty. Yes, I had spent the majority of my life wanting to know her, but she was also the woman whom once I had met in my adult life, had hurt me in way from which I had never recovered.

Did I really want to see her be buried?

* * *

There was a knock on my door and I called out for whoever it was to come in.

"Hey," I heard Scott's voice say as I was busy tossing sweaters into a bag. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Packing," I answered simply as I moved to my closest to pull out a black dress.

"Why? What's going on?"

"My birth mother died. I'm going to her funeral."

"Oh wow," he said, his tone suddenly serious. "I'm really sorry."

"Yeah, thanks," I said, folding up my dress and carefully placing it in my bag.

"Do you need me to take you in the jet? I can fly you, if you need me to."

"No, Logan's driving me," I said. "Thanks, though."

He grabbed my arm on my way back to my closest and stopped me. "Hey, it's okay to be upset. She _was_ your mother," he said.

"I know that. But I'm _not_ upset. I'm not sad. I'm not depressed," I said. "I'm just pissed that I found out she died on Christmas; it kind of puts a damper on my holiday." I pulled out of his grip and went back to my closet to get my blue jeans.

"Jayden, you can be pissed at her and still be upset that she died."

"Why do you care?" I snapped angrily. "I'm acknowledging her death by going to her freakin' funeral, I think that's enough. I don't have to mourn over her. I didn't _lose_ anyone, so it doesn't mean anything to me."

"You're honestly telling me that this isn't affecting you at all? She was your _mother_."

"Yeah, a mother that _left_ me."

"So you don't love her because she left you? She asked you to forgive her and she died. Can't you let that resentment go?"

"What like you? Yeah, Jean died like, two years ago and you _still_ hate Logan for kissing her. When she didn't exactly tell him not to. Should _you _really be the person preaching to me about letting go of resentment?"

"Jean is my wife, it's different."

"_Was_ you wife, she _was_ you wife. She's dead! Just like my mother. They're gone, we don't get to say bye, we don't get to do anything because _they_ died on _us_. So if I don't want to mourn her death, I think that's my own freakin' choice, Scott," I said.

"You can still tell her bye, you can still talk to her, and you don't have to be mad. Why can't _that_ be your choice?"

"Why do you care?" I asked again. "Just because Jean died doesn't make you an expert on death."

"I never said it did, Jayden. I'm just trying to relate."

"You wife died, this was my mother; it's not the same."

"My mother died, too. But I was younger than you when it happened. As a matter of a fact, I lost _both_ of my parents at the same time and _I _ended up in an orphanage, too."

"Yeah, but you were there because they died; not because they didn't love you. It's not the same."

"You think it hurt any less?"

"No, I think it hurt more, and _that's_ the point. This _doesn't_ hurt. I don't care that she's dead."

"I don't believe you."

"You know what; I don't care if you don't believe me."

"I think it does hurt you. I think it hurts you that she had a family you were never a part of. I think it hurts that she didn't feel the same way about you that you felt about her."

"Yeah, unrequited love is pretty much the story of my life," I spat, looking in his face. "How nice of _you_ to pick up on that." I shook my head as I folded my blue jeans and threw them in my bag.

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean it like that. I just…I forgot, okay? I didn't mean to bring that up."

"So you forgot that even _we_ don't feel the same about each other. I'm beginning to think that there's _seriously_ something wrong with me. The _only_ person who actually loves me was programmed to be a human weapon. The only man who's apparently capable of loving me is someone who's just as screwed up as me, and probably more. _That_ says something right there. I mean, my own mother couldn't even love me."

"Logan is not the only man who loves you," he said. "You know that."

I shook my head. "No, I don't," I said honestly as I sat down on the edge of my bed. "Because I know without a doubt that he loves me. But with everyone else…" I paused and let out a sigh. "I don't know."

"Jayden, Hank loves you, the Professor does, so does Bobby," he said. "And I know I hurt you, but I love you, too."

"Don't do that, okay? Just don't."

"All right, sorry."

"Is there a particular reason why you're here?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said. "I came to bring you your Christmas present." He tossed me a small square gift wrapped in red paper. "Merry Christmas," he said unenthusiastically and gave me a small, forced smile as he turned away and left my room.

I felt like a complete jerk. Not only had I been rude to him when he was trying to be nice to me, but I hadn't even bought him a present. I didn't really think I would need to, because I hadn't thought he would buy me anything.

I peeled the paper away and when I saw what it was, I really felt bad. It was a greatest hits CD from the Rolling Stones. Just like the one we had listened to on our trip to Boston.

And that's when I broke down.

I didn't know if I was crying because of Scott, or my mother, or me, or what it was, but I just started crying. And I couldn't stop. I curled up on my bed and cried. I didn't know what else to do. I was so confused about everything and it was the only thing that seemed to make sense.

I just couldn't understand why my life had to be so complicated.


	26. One Eyed King

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to anything. But it is my birthday today, and it's offically my last year of being a teenager, so show me some birthday love and please tell me what ya'll think of the story, it's almost done. Have I made you sick of Jayden yet? lol Please enjoy!

* * *

After three days of driving straight through the holiday traffic and the snow storms hitting all of the northern boarder, Logan and I finally arrived in Alberta for my mother's funeral.

I barely knew her. I was only three when she gave me up for adoption. I lived my life until I was eighteen believing that she had given me away so that I would have a better life.

I was wrong.

She had given me away because I looked like my father. A man who had abandoned us when I was born. A man that I had never known anything about. A man who held my hand as I watched them burry my birth mother.

I looked up from the ground where I had been staring at the snow. I looked at her children. _Her_ children. They had been hers since the day they were born. But not me. I belonged to someone else.

She had been diagnosed with cancer nearly a year before, but she did the day before Christmas. She _died_ on Christmas Eve. I looked at her children and wondered if they resented her for that. If they hated her for not being strong enough to hold on. To see it through until after Christmas. They were still kids. All of them. All three. The youngest was seven, the oldest was fourteen, and in the middle there was a ten year old.

Her son, the oldest, looked over and saw me at the same time I was staring at him. I saw the bitter hatred in his eyes. He hated me, not her.

_Why?_ I thought. _She gave me away, she kept you_.

She had come to me just weeks before, asking for forgiveness. Mercy. A pardon for her mistakes. Her husband had pulled me aside and told me that even if I hadn't truly forgiven her, to at least tell her that I had. Let her die at peace knowing that I wasn't angry with her. I fought with myself. I had forgiven her, in a way. I understood that had she not given me away, my life wouldn't have turned out the way it had. I would never have met Logan.

I felt his grip on my hand grow tighter as they began to lower my mother into the cold, wet, ground. I watched her casket disappear in the hole as snow flakes danced merrily around, catching in my eyelashes and my hair. They were obviously oblivious to the occasion.

Part of me had forgiven her, but there was something inside of me that held back saying this to either of them. Because there was a part of me that _hadn't_ forgiven her. Not for everything. I had been happy for years with the thought that she had given me away so that I could have a good life, a nice life. But then I found out that that hadn't been true, and I couldn't forgive her for that.

Music began to play. A country western song I had never heard, but obviously meant something to her. To her family.

It meant nothing to me.

Her son's eyes had since stopped boring into me with their anger and instead had focused on the slowly descending casket.

Her husband had asked me to lie to her and I wondered if I should. I wondered if it was right for me to tell her a lie just so that she could die believing that she had truly done right by me. If I should tell her that what she had done was the right thing to do. The _only_ thing to do. I wondered if I should tell her that I understood and forgave everything she did.

Logan pulled me to him, trying to keep me warm. The winters in Canada were worse than the ones in New York, which was still a bit of a shock compared to California. I wasn't used to them and he tried to warm me up as shivers ran through my body. Shivers that I wasn't entirely sure the weather was to blame for. I hated funerals. I hated even more having the people around me crying while I stood there and watched somberly.

I felt shivers run through me, but I didn't know if it was from the cold or from the fact that I was watching my real mother being buried in the earth.

Her husband had asked me to lie to her and I wondered if I should. A lie might have allowed her to die in peace, but the truth was so much stronger. So much more convicting. She had left me, never tried to find me, and when _I_ finally found _her_, she had lied to me. I didn't want anything to do with her. I was happy that she wasn't part of my life, because the only time she had been, she had hurt me. She had left me. She had made me scared to get close to other people, because I feared that they too would leave me, just like her.

The priest read from the Bible and said a few words before casting a handful of earth onto her coffin. "In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our sister Bridget; and we commit her body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust. The Lord bless her and keep her, the Lord make His face to shine upon her and be gracious into her and give her peace. Amen."

Peace. That's what she had been searching for. She had come to me looking for hope that I might be able to give it to her. But I had been torn. Torn between feeding her a lie and telling her the truth. Torn between making her believe that despite it all, I still loved her and that nothing could change that. Not living with a different family. Not living miles apart. Not even death.

I listened to the people around me sobbing and the sound of the dirt hitting the coffin where it sat inside its hole. I watched her husband lead his three children to where it was and watched as they all tossed a single red rose into the hole with her. It was their final goodbye.

I had been torn between wondering if I should tell her a lie or if I should tell her that honestly, I didn't feel much for her anymore. She wasn't part of my family. I was grown up, I had found my own family, one that loved me, and I didn't need her. I didn't want to waste any more time on her than I had growing up. If she died, it meant nothing to me; because she was merely a stranger I had once known. She wasn't my mother; she hadn't been for a very long time.

Her husband walked my way while an elderly couple hugged the children. He stopped just in front of me and I was forced to look up at him.

"I'm glad you came Jayden; Brie would be happy to know that you were here."

I nodded. "I'm sorry, Mark. I really am."

"Thank you."

"I'm afraid I can't stay much longer; our plane's leaving soon," I lied. "I may not have been very close to her, but you and your kids were, and for that, I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," he said again. "We appreciate it."

"Take care of them. They need you; you're all they have now."

"They have you."

I shook my head. "No, they don't. I can't do that. I can't be part of this family."

"If you ever want to be, though, we'll be here."

"Yeah, okay."

I watched him reach into his jacket pocket and pull something out. "Here," he said, handing the object to me. "This is for you."

I looked at it. "It's a cassette tape."

"The girls recorded some of Brie's favorite songs on it for you. They remembered meeting you last year and thought their other sister might like it."

I stuck it into the pocket of my wool coat. "Thank you," I said. "And tell the girls I said thank you, too."

"I will," he said. "Take care of yourself, Jayden."

I nodded but didn't say anything else. Logan and I both turned and began walking to the car. He wrapped his arm around me, holding me close to him. He kissed me on the top of my head. "You did a good thing, darlin'."

"I just hope it was the _right_ thing," I said.

My mother had wanted peace before her death. I told her the truth; that my life with her wouldn't have been the same and that I liked my life how it was. That if she hadn't given me away, I probably wouldn't have met my father, who was my hero. And if it hadn't been for him, I never would have met my family, the one that still loved me despite all my faults. I told her that there were nights when I lay awake in bed and think about her. I told her that I forgave her and hoped that over time, it would also become part of the truth.

She had come to me for peace and I hoped that I had given it to her.

* * *

The motel room was quiet, but I could hear the couple in the room next to ours. They were arguing over drugs. Apparently the woman had broken their crack pip and the man she was with wasn't too happy about it. Of course they weren't arguing too loudly, but my senses were all sensitive right then and I could hear them.

I had just gotten out of the shower and was pulling on one of Logan's flannel shirts over my wife beater that I was wearing with my pajama bottoms. After my mother's funeral was over, Logan and I had found the only motel in town and checked in. Then I had gotten into the shower to try to get rid of the chill that had stayed with me the whole ride there. Logan had gone out to try to find some food for us so I was alone in the room and getting nervous. The arguing next door wasn't helping much, either.

I went over to the motel phone and picked it up. I dialed the number to the mansion and hoped someone answered. I was too nervous by myself and needed someone to talk to. When the phone finally was answered, the familiar voice wasn't exactly the one I had been wanting.

It was Scott.

"How did the funeral go?" he asked after we exchanged hellos.

"Okay, I guess. It was absolutely freezing, I knew about four of the seventy people there, and I was the only one not crying. Aside from Logan."

"Sorry. I know it must have been hard for you even if you weren't close to her."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Did you need to speak to someone? Hank or the Professor?"

"No, I uh…I'm just here in the motel room by myself and I…" I let out a sigh. "I just got a little nervous."

"Why are you by yourself? Where's Logan?"

"He went to find something for us to eat while I was in the shower."

"Okay, so why are you nervous?"

"Have you ever seen the movie 'Psycho'?"

I heard him laugh softly and try to cover it as a cough. "Uh, yeah, why? Have you?"

"Yeah, Tony took me to see it on our date and now I'm kind of freaking out about it."

"It's just a movie, none of it's real."

"It's still creepy."

"Well, why don't you stay on the phone with me until Logan gets back, okay? And I'll try to keep your mind off it."

"Yeah, thanks," I said and was quiet for a moment as I thought and he waited for me to speak. "Listen, I'm _really_ sorry about everything I said to you on Christmas. I didn't mean most of it and I know I was really rude when you were only trying to be nice and -"

"Don't," he said, interrupting me. "You had just found out you lost your mother and I know things haven't been easy for you lately. These past few months have been especially hard on you. I should have thought about that, but I didn't. So _I'm_ sorry, okay?"

"No, you didn't say anything that wasn't true."

"I tried telling you how you should feel. I have a bad habit of doing that. And I shouldn't have, you have a right to feel however you want -"

"Scott?"

"Yeah."

"Shut up and let me apologize, all right?"

"Fine, go ahead."

"Yeah, I've been having a hard time. Everything's so freakin' confusing lately. I don't know how to deal with my parent's divorce, with this dumb mutation that I absolutely hate, this problem with the energy mass in my head, and I _really_ have no idea how to deal with this…_thing_ between us. I feel like I don't have control over _anything_." I paused for a moment.

"But I do. I have control over how I act and react. I have control over what I think and say and do. I have control over whether or not I let everything that's happening around me, and to me, decide how I am and who I'm going to be. And I didn't do what I should have done. I let myself get upset and lost a bit of my temper. I can't keep blaming how I act on what's going on, you know? I mean, like you said, you lost both of your parents at the same time, and that's what started your mutation. I remember you telling me once that you were blind for like, a year, because no one knew how to control your powers except to keep you blindfolded, until the Professor turned up. No things aren't easy, but some people have it worse off than me. And I have to start realizing that things are _supposed_ to suck, because that's life."

"That's _not_ life, things don't _have_ to suck. You're just hitting a rough patch; things are going to get better, you just have to let them."

"That's not my point, Scott. What I'm trying to say, and _really_ failing at, is that I can't let what's going on in my life be an excuse for me to be rude. You were doing your best to keep our friendship together, you were trying to reach out and relate to me, and all I did was snap and tell at you. I know I'm young and still immature, and you are _so_ patient with me." I let out a sigh. "And I'm really sorry. I just hope you can forgive me."

"Jayden, you don't have to ask for my forgiveness, and you don't have to apologize. I don't stay mad at you; I _can't_."

I smiled. "Well, if it's any consolation, I can never stay mad at you, either."

"Good, I don't want you to be mad at me."

I lay back on my bed and curled up on my side, keeping the phone to my free ear. I let out another sigh. "What are we going to do, Scott?"

"I don't know, sweetheart, that's what I'm trying to figure out."

"But you're the leader; you're supposed to have all the right answers."

"I really wish that was true, but I'm afraid it's not," he said. "If you ever figure it out, do you promise you'll tell me?"

I smiled again, even thought I knew he couldn't see it. "Yeah, I promise."

"Good."

I heard a car pull up outside and saw the headlights flash through the window. I knew it was Logan even before he unlocked the door and came in, carrying a large paper bag. Then he closed the door and locked the two locks on it behind him. When he turned around, he gave me a look. I mouthed to him that it was Scott and he didn't say anything, he didn't shake his head, he didn't even growl. He just sat the food down on the table along with his keys and pulled off his snow covered jacket.

"Logan's here no, so I guess I'll let you go," I said to Scott.

"Okay. Do you know when you're going to be back?"

"Not really. I think Logan and I are going to stay here for a few days before coming back home."

"Are you going to be back for New Years?"

"Probably not. We kind of need a break for a while."

"Okay, well, just be careful while you're gone, all right?"

"Yeah, we will be."

"Bye Jayden, goodnight."

"Bye Scott, night," I said before hanging up.

"What was that all about?" Logan asked as I sat back up.

"I just got a little freaked out being her by myself, so I called home to talk to someone while you were gone. Scott answered."

"Why'd you get freaked out?"

I shrugged. "I started thinking about the movie 'Psycho' while I was in the shower. Then I heard the people in the room next to us start arguing, and…I don't know, I just got a bit nervous and wanted to talk with someone."

He nodded. "All right. You ready to eat? I got us some hamburgers and barbeque."

I stared at him for a moment, watching him dig out the food and set mine out for me. "Logan?"

"Yeah, darlin'?" he said, setting a plastic fork beside my Styrofoam box with my food in it.

"I love you," I said. "You know that, right?"

He turned around and looked at me. "Yeah, I know that."

I nodded. "Good. I don't want you to forget that."

"I won't," he said and gave me a raised eyebrow. "What's this all about, though?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. I guess with my mother's funeral today I just wanted to make sure you knew."

He moved from the table and came to sit by me on my bed. He pulled me closer to his side and kissed the top of my head. "I know you love me, baby, and I ain't ever gonna forget that. I love you too, and I don't want you to forget it, either. I know you're havin' a hard time, but things are gonna get better. I promise."

I grabbed the bicep that was wrapped around my shoulder and held onto it as I rested the back of my head against his chest. "I don't really think they could get much worse," I said.

"But if they ever do, I'm gonna be right here," he said, stroking the hair away from my face.

I closed my eyes and fell into the feeling of it. "Do you know how much I need you?" I asked.

He kissed my forehead. "Yeah, I do," he said. "'Cause I think you need me about as much as I need you, so you gotta stick with me, baby, and I'm gonna take care of you."

"You promise?" I asked, turning around in his arms so that I could wrap mine around his waist. "You promise you'll always take care of me?"

"Yeah, I promise."

Death can do odd things to us. It can make us cry and hurt. It can take people away from us and it can bring us closer to the ones we love.

Death makes us realize our own mortality and the mortality of those around us. It brings it into reality with a shocking clarity. Logan could heal, he had come back from the dead before, but he wasn't immortal. Because _he_ had died. And the thought of ever truly losing him filled me with an immense fear I couldn't shake. I wanted us to be together. Always.

Death, and the realization of it, made me want to ask for forgiveness of my own sins I may have done. It made me want to enjoy everyday, lest it be my last. It made me want to be a better person. And it made me strive to be that.

Death, even though it's scary, is something we need in order to appreciate the people we love and those who love us. Because we never know when we might lose them.

* * *

After four days of sleeping, eating and watching TV in our motel, Logan and I finally decided to move on. We were tired of the town, and even more tired of the people there. The last time I had be in the town had been because Logan had made me get out of his truck and walk the two miles there in the freezing cold pouring rain in an attempt to piss me off enough to leave him alone. But it had backfired because I had found my mother there and met people who knew her, then he came back and apologized to me. One of the two woman I had met was Barbara, and older woman who had been my waitress at the only diner in town and had told me how I could find a woman who had know my mother four years, and how to get in touch with her. The other was Mary, the woman who Barbara had told me about. She was also a waitress at the same diner and had known me when I was little.

The problem with knowing them was that they felt the need to reach out to me during my time of 'suffering'. So they had brought me flowers and food. And then Mark, my mother's husband, had started sending people to our room with more flowers and food, and some even gave me money, though I wasn't sure why. But there was a lot of food. A lot. Mostly casseroles and some other stuff I wasn't quite able to identify.

My mother had never really been a part of my life, and yet people were treating me like I had lost the most important person to me. So Logan and I left. We drove south for three hours until we spotted a place on the side of the road that boasted a sign saying it had the best pancakes in all of Northern Alberta. So we pulled over and decided to try it out for ourselves.

"How much money did you end up with?" Logan asked as he puffed on his cigar while we waited for our pancakes.

"Almost four hundred," I said, looking out the window at the snow.

"What're you gonna do with it?"

"I'm going to give it to her kids. I don't deserve it; they're the ones that lost their mother."

"So did you."

I shook my head. "No, not really. I never had her to lose. I didn't belong to her."

"How are you gonna divide nearly four hundred between the three of 'em?"

I smiled sheepishly. "Well, I'm actually only giving them three hundred," I said. "I thought I could give the rest to you for gas money."

"I got gas money, keep it for yourself."

"What am I supposed to use it for?" I asked, taking a sip of my coffee.

"You and Marie are goin' shoppin' when you get home, aren't you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, I mean, I guess."

"You don't wanna go with her?"

"No, I don't mind going with her, I just don't know if we'll have time. By the time we get home, she'll probably have to go back to school."

"You don't mind hangin' out with her anymore?"

I shook my head. "No, actually, not really."

I saw the faintest hint of a smile spread across his mouth. "Good."

I smiled and shook my head. "Don't get too excited. Just because I don't hate her anymore doesn't mean I'm going to start planning your wedding for you."

He laughed. "All right, deal," he said, giving me a wink.

It didn't take very much longer for our food to come out. The pancakes may have been the best in Northern Alberta, but they definitely weren't the best I'd ever had. Hank's chocolate chip pancakes could kick their butts seven ways from Sunday, even on one of his off days. But they weren't bad; they were actually the best part of our breakfast. The hash browns were undercooked and still slightly frozen, the scrambled eggs were runny and didn't have the cheese we both ordered with them, and the sausage was burnt. When we complained they offered to re-cook our orders for us or wave the tab. We opted to eat for free since neither of us wanted to try anymore of their food. So once we were done eating, I went to the back to use the bathroom before we got back on the road to start our long trip back home.

I had just finished washing my hands and was pulling on my leather jacket back over my hooded zip-up jacket when I heard the bathroom door open. I looked in the mirror to see who it was and saw a man standing behind me.

"Uh, sir, I think you have the wrong room. The guy's bathroom is the one next door."

I saw him smile at me in the mirror and suddenly I felt a chill of terror run through me.

I had seen him before.

It had been back in October, right after I had gotten back from my trip to California, and I had been taking a nap in Logan's bedroom. I had had one of my weird dreams. At first he had looked like Logan. He had been sitting at his desk, in his room, and he sounded like him. But there had been something wrong, and when I looked at him again, there was a man dressed all in black that had taken his place. He gave me a smile that made me scared and had spoken to me. "_Soon, my dear, soon_." That's what he had said.

He kept smiling at me in the mirror. "No, I think I'm in the right place," he said and his voice was unmistakable. It was him.

I turned around to face him and opened my mouth to call for Logan. But no sound came out. I kept trying and trying, but I couldn't make a sound. I felt like I was in a bad dream where I wanted to scream for help, but no one could hear me. Only it wasn't a dream; it was real. And I started to feel panic well up inside of me.

He came towards me in the small bathroom, all the sounds around me disappearing as he backed me into a corner. By the time he reached me, there was no way out but behind him. I tried to stay calm and think, but I didn't know what was going on.

He grabbed my wrist and something that Logan had taught me instantly clicked in my mind. I twisted my wrist against his thumb, the weakest part of his grip, and pulled out of his hold. I then punched him in an attempt to get away, but it didn't seem to bother him. He punched me back and grabbed the ends of my scarf.

Then he started choking me.

I tried fighting him back, but he was strong and pulled tighter the harder I fought, and soon my vision started blacking out from my lack of oxygen. So I stopped fighting, I held what little breath I still had and tried to keep my neck stiff. My mind frantically reached out for Logan, trying to get him to help me, but I couldn't hear anything from him. And he wasn't coming to save me.

The man didn't slack up his hold on my scarf or how hard he was choking me, but he repositioned himself, thinking I was too weak to take advantage of his new position against me.

He was wrong.

He had moved himself from standing beside me with his chest against mine, pinning me to the wall, with his elbow held down by my ribs, keeping from being able to move, to standing directly in front of me. Because his hands were on my actual neck, I should still move my head slightly, though not much. And I decided to use that to my advantage. I gathered what energy I had left, prepared myself for the pain, and reared my head back as far as I could.

Then I head butted him.

The shock of my action caused him to lose his grip and he dropped one end of my scarf. I unwound it from the rest of my neck and used my shoulder to shove him out of my way. I ran for the door. I only managed a few steps before I felt his hand on my ankle. He pulled my feet out from under me. I fell and on my way down, hit my mouth on the side of the sink. I fell to the floor and tried to crawl towards the door, but he still had a hold of me. I rolled over and saw him coming towards me. I put my knee up, trying to keep him from getting on top of me, but he ignored it. He sat on top of my stomach, straddling me as he pinned my arms down with his knees, and put his hands around my throat. His grip was tight; he knew exactly what he was doing.

I looked up him and saw his brow furrowed in concentration. The muscles in his arms strained hard as he choked me and I fought back keeping my neck strong and stiff. I saw his chest heaving as he breathed hard, but I couldn't hear it. I couldn't hear anything. His nose was bleeding from where I had first punched him, but he seemed unaffected. And when I looked in his eyes, I saw something evil.

The moment I looked in his eyes, my mind was filled with images and sounds. They passed through me at a painful rate. And when they stopped, everything clicked. But I wasn't scared. It didn't frighten me. It only made me fight harder. It wasn't my time to die. Not like this and not by him

I could still feel the blood trickling in my mouth and I spit it at him. It hit him in the eyes and he removed one of his hands from my neck to wipe it away. Then I rolled my head, moving my neck against his thumb, breaking free of his grip. He took his hand that I had just broken away from and held it over my mouth and nose as he reached for something in his coat pocket.

It was a knife.

He brought it to my face and ran the flat edge of the blade down my cheek as he smiled at me. Then he moved it to my eyes. He carefully ran the blade on the skin between my eyes, taunting me.

He was going to cut them out.

My instincts told me to fight, but I couldn't even move. He had me pinned. He was going to cut my eyes out. And then he was going to kill me. I just had to decide if I was going to let it happen.

I was staring death in the face.

As he moved the knife closer to my right eye, I could see the light being reflected from the lighting fixtures above us, and it glimmered in my eye. And I didn't think; I just moved. His hand was still covering my mouth and nose, trying to restrict my breathing. Not to kill me, but to make me weak.

So I bit him.

I sank my top and bottom fangs into the meaty flesh that connected his thumb to his wrist and clamped my jaw down tight. He threw back his head, as if screaming in pain, but no sound escaped his throat. He dropped the knife and punched me in the side of my head. I let go of his hand and could finally breathe. I paced my breaths, keeping them even, and pulled together all of my strength to knock him off me. It caught him off guard, but he didn't miss a step. He dove for the knife at the same time as me. I grabbed it first. He grabbed my wrist and pointed it towards me. He started pushing it towards my chest. My heart. But I wasn't pinned under him anymore; the rest of my body was free. He aimed it towards my heart and was making food effort to stab me. So I kneed him in the groin. Then I kicked him in the groin. And then I dug the heel of my boot into his groin. I felt his grip loosen on my hands and pulled away. I pushed myself to my feet, knowing I would be able to fight better that way than on the ground.

But I was stupid.

I made another attempt for the door. I was nearly there when I felt his hand on my arm. I took the knife I was still holding and stabbed him in the shoulder.

That's when I saw the door fly open. Logan rushed in and pushed me away from the man. He pointed to the door. "_Go!_" he mouth, but again, there was no sound. I didn't move. "_Go!_" Even if I couldn't hear his voice, his expression said it all.

I ran from the bathroom and out into the main room of the diner. I nearly plowed over one of the waitresses, but I just kept running. I ran all the way out to the car and climbed in, where I was finally able to breath. Two minutes later Logan followed and I barely had time to fasten my seatbelt before we were tearing out of the parking lot and speeding down the highway.

"We need to go to the hospital," I said, my voice hoarse.

He looked over at me. "You hurt that bad?"

I shook my head. "No, it's…there's someone where."

"Who?"

"It's his daughter. She's at the hospital."

"Who was he?"

I felt a chill run through my spin down to the pit of my stomach. "He was the Blind Man Murderer."


	27. Answers and Endings

Disclaimer: I don't own the rights to Marvel, FOX, or the title of this song. This is the last chapter of the story, I hope ya'll have liked it so far and I really hope you enjoy the last chapter. Thank ya'll so much for sticking with me, please enjoy!

* * *

It took Logan and me three hours to find the right hospital. We finally had to call the Professor and explain the situation. He gave us the directions we needed and wished us luck. We drove straight there, except for the two times Logan had to pull over for me to throw up. The adrenaline rush I had gotten from the fight had left me feeling sick and in pain. But that's not why I was melting snow with my own vomit on the side of the road. It was because of what I had seen. What I had to do.

By the time we arrived, the sun was already setting and reclaiming all of its light.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Logan asked as we walked towards the front doors. "I can do it, you can stay out here, wait in the car."

"No," I said, shaking my head. "This is something _I_ have to do."

When we reached the doors, he held back some. As I passed by, he wished me luck under his breath.

I entered the hospital and went to the front desk. The woman sitting there was on the phone and gave me a smile while holding up her finger, indicating for me to wait. Once she hung up she gave me another smile. "How may I help you, miss?"

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Her father said she was in this hospital," I lied. "I was wondering if I could visit her."

"What's the patient's name?"

"Megan Gershwin."

She typed something into the computer before looking back to me, giving me another smile. "Yes, she's here. I'm going to need you to sign in and show proof of your ID, and then you can go back and see her."

"Oh, I left my purse in the car, I don't have my ID."

"Well you can go get it."

"Yeah, that's the thing, my car's not here. My father dropped me off and went to the store. He said he'd be back in about an hour to pick me up."

"Well our visiting hours _end_ in an hour."

"That's what I was afraid of. You see, I don't live here, I'm from California. But my father brought me here to attend my mother's funeral. We're leaving tomorrow, so this is the last chance I'll have to see her," I said. "Is there no way I can just sign in and show proof of my ID when he gets back, so you won't get in trouble?"

She looked a little unsure. "You won't be able to make another trip to visit her some other time? She's going to be here for a very long time, she's not recovering well."

"So…she might _die_ soon?"

"No, she just…" She let out a sigh. "I can let you in, but no longer than twenty minutes. And I'm still going to need you to sign in."

"Thank you," I said, taking the clipboard she handed me. I sign it and she gave me the room number and how to get to it.

"Miss Joan?" I heard the woman call as I was walking away from the desk. "Miss Joan?" I kept walking. "Bridget?"

I turned around. "Yes, ma'am?"

"I'm sorry to hear about your mother. It's a shame to lose someone so important at such a young age."

"Yeah," I said. "It's a real shame."

I turned back around and continued walking. It didn't take long for me to find the right room, and I paused for only a moment to take a few deep breaths before going in. I walked into the hospital room and saw a girl lying in bed.

"Daddy, is that you?"

As soon as she spoke, I was hit with a realization so strong my knees went weak.

I looked at the girl and saw someone who was around my age, but looked much younger. She had short black hair, with a cut close to her head that resembled a boy's haircut. Her eyes were a dull brown color and her skin was pale, showing that she hadn't been out in the sun in a long while.

She was the girl I had seen in my vision right before I had been hit by lightening. _She_ was the one who had been in my head.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"My name is Jayden," I said, walking out of the shadow of the door to the center of the room, where she could see me.

I watched as something clicked in her eyes. Their once dull brown was suddenly shining. "I've been looking everywhere for you, and then you come to me," she said. "How convenient."

"Your father tried killing me."

She gave me a confused look. "No he didn't. Because if he had tried, you would be dead. My dad is a strong man. I know."

I unzipped my jacket to show her the bruise on my neck and pulled off my sunglasses to show her the black eye. She could already see my swollen and busted lip. "Oh, he tried."

"Then why aren't you dead?"

"No, the question should be, why do you _want_ me dead? Why did you want all of those girls dead?"

"What girls?" she asked, but gave me a coy smirk.

I walked closer to her and dropped my voice as I pressed the record button on the tape recorder in the pocket of my hoodie. It was too small for her to see, and I prayed it would work. "Don't act like you're dumb. I looked into your father's eyes and I saw everything he did. I saw him kill all of those girls, every single one of them. But it wasn't his idea, was it? It was yours."

"You think he would be smart enough to come up with something like that?" She laughed. "No. _I_ was the smart one, not him."

"Why did you make him kill them?"

"What else was I supposed to do? I can't move. I'm paralyzed and stuck in here. I couldn't do it myself. Besides, his mutation comes in handy sometimes. He can take away whatever sounds he wants. He doesn't leave any scents, fingerprints, nothing. He leaves a clean crime scene. I _needed_ him to do it."

"Why did you need to kill them? Why did you need them dead? And why did you cut their freakin' eyes out?" I asked, my whisper coming out as an angry hiss.

"So I could eat them."

I felt the shock show on my face. "_What_?"

"I eat their eyes. They have to be alive when they're cut out, though, or it doesn't work."

"Or _what_ doesn't work?"

"Have you ever heard that the eyes are the window to the soul? It's true. When I eat their eyes, I see their lives. I see everything they've ever done. When I eat their eyes, I know who they are."

"But why? Why do you kill them? Why do you need to see who they are?"

"Because I was trying to find you," she said. "Because _you_ screwed up my life!"

"How did _I_ screw up your life? I don't know you."

"You saw me before. You're why I'm in this freakin' place. You're why I can't walk. And _that's_ why you deserve to die!"

"What are you talking about? I've never _met_ you before. How is it _my_ fault that _you're_ paralyzed?"

She stared at me hard, the light in her eyes nothing more than a shining hatred now. "A few months ago you had a vision of a girl dying."

"I have visions of people dying all the time; you're going to have to be a little bit more specific," I spat, disgusted just looking at her.

"You saw a girl get hit by a semi-truck in the middle of a road in front of a restaurant in Virginia."

I thought back. Right after my bad vision in the summer, Logan and I had left home. While at a diner, I had seen a vision of a girl getting hit. She was trying to make her way to Ohio. Then she got hit by the truck. I had put flowers on the Ohio state line for her.

"What does she have to do with you?"

"She _is_ me!"

I shook my head. "No, she died. I saw her."

"You saw me get hot, but I didn't die."

"So you think I deserve to die because you didn't?"

"No, you should die because if it wasn't for you and your stupid vision, this never would have happened. _You_ made it happen."

"It didn't happen because I saw it; I saw it because it happened!" I shot back angrily but quietly.

"I was hit by a truck because of you."

"A truck I wasn't driving!" I said and suddenly realized what Scott and everyone else had been telling me was right. Just because I saw it didn't mean I could fix it. What happened in my visions wasn't my fault.

"I was going to Ohio. I had finally gotten away from my father. After _fifteen_ years of him…_abusing_ me, I finally ran away. I had a friend in Ohio that was going to help me, she was going to let me stay there, and he would never be able to find me. He wouldn't be able to hurt me again. I was in Virginia, I was _so_ close," she said as angry tears fell from her eyes.

"But you made me get hit. And because of _you_, I was sent to a hospital where my father came and got me. They brought me here and this is where I've been ever since. No, he didn't touch me again, he couldn't here, he wouldn't because of how I am. One night I found out that I could get inside people's head and make them do things I wanted. So I decided I wanted to kill you. After you had your vision of me getting hit, I saw you. It was just a glimpse, and only for a second, but I saw you in the rain. You were here in Northern Alberta, so I made my father track down anyone that looked like you and kill them and bring me their eyes. I would eat them and I knew none of them belonged to you. None of them were even mutants, except one. So when you had your second vision of me, I felt it. And something happened."

I watched her as she started at me with an intense hatred that mixed with every word she said. "After you had it, I could feel a part of me with you. I could catch glimpses of your life through your eyes. And I could make you do things, too. I made you see things and think things. I made you scared. You took my life away, so why shouldn't I take yours away, too?" she said, and then paused a moment to take a few deep breaths.

"First I gave you those black rings around your hands and arms. But I never knew if it worked because you always kept your arms covered and you never made a big fuss about it. So then I changed your hair, your teeth, and your eyes. And that really bothered you, didn't it? Yeah, you hated it because you thought it took you away from your father, didn't you? But it still wasn't enough. My stupid father still couldn't find you; even with you looking like a complete freak." Someone walked by outside and she went quiet for a moment, waiting for them to pass.

"I made you cut your hair. Chop it all off. Like they had to do with mine. And it still wasn't enough. He couldn't find you and I wanted you dead so bad because I _hate_ you. So I took someone else away from you. The man I made you kiss, he hurt you, didn't he? Broke your heart, made you wish you were dead? I still wasn't satisfied, though. So I made you think that you're father had done the same thing to you that my father had been doing to me. If I couldn't have you killed, I wanted to make you suffer as much as possible. I wanted revenge. You know what they say; an eye for an eye."

"An eye for an eye only leaves a bunch of blind people," I said, looking in her eyes, seeing pure hatred. I stared back at her, knowing my eyes showed the same thing to her.

She smiled at me again. "Yeah, but in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king," she said. "I think you know that, though."

I moved closer to her, dropping my voice even lower and looking her straight in the eye. There was no fear in me, I wasn't scared anymore, and I knew that showed through. "Your father's dead, you're paralyzed, and you don't have _anyone_ else to manipulate. So it looks like you're not the king anymore; you're the blind."

"My father's not dead. He was just here today."

"I saw him today, too. He tried to kill me, remember? And that's not something I take lightly. Because unlike you, I fight back."

"You think I never tried fighting back against him? I wanted him dead!"

"Then why did you kill him? Why didn't you have him kill himself? Why did you choose to kill innocent girls instead? You said I took your life away, but what about them? What about their families?"

"I don't care."

"It doesn't matter if you care or not, you're still going to pay for it."

"No I'm not," she said. "Because no one's ever going to know about it."

"I know about it," I said, giving her a smile of my own. "That's enough for me."

* * *

I put my sunglasses on as I walked back into the main area of the hospital where the front desk was located. I walked straight past it, the woman never taking her eyes away from Logan long enough to notice me. I made my way across the street and found a payphone. I dug out the change I had in my pocket and inserted it into the phone before dialing the number. After three rings there was an answer. 

"Agent Tony De Luca, hello?"

"Tony, this is Jayden."

"Hey Jayden, how are you?"

"Not so good. I really need to see you. I'm in Canada, are you still here?"

"Yeah, I'm in Edmonton. Where are you?"

"A few hours away from there. Can I see you tonight?"

"Uh, I don't know. I mean, I'm working pretty hard on the case. Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"This is about the case," I said, watching as Logan excited the hospital from the corner of my eye.

"Can you tell me over the phone?"

"No."

"Okay…when you get here, call me. We can figure out a place for us to meet and you can tell me what's wrong, okay?"

"Yeah."

"Are you going to be okay until then?"

"Yeah…I think so."

"All right. Be careful."

"I will be," I said. "Bye Tony."

"Bye."

I hung up the phone and walked around the corner where I waited for Logan to pick me up in the car. I climbed in and then we were off again.

"You okay?" he asked.

"I don't know yet," I said honestly.

He was quiet as we drove for a while. When we got to the interstate he looked over at me. "Where are we goin'?"

"Edmonton. We're going to Edmonton and then we're going home."

"All right," he said, pulled onto the proper exit. "Edmonton it is."

* * *

It took us nearly four hours to get from Strathmore, Alberta to Edmonton. I had set up a meeting with Tony in a bar and pub Logan knew about on the outskirts of town. When we got in, Logan went to the bar where he could keep an eye on me. As I walked to the booth in the back of the room where Tony was sitting, my legs wouldn't stop shaking and I had to fight the urge to run to the bathroom and throw up again. I tried to look as calm as possible as I sat down in the seat across from his. 

"What happened to you?" he asked, looking at my bruised and busted skin. "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"What happened?"

"I got into a bit of a fight earlier today."

"With who?"

"Robert Gershwin."

He looked at me, confused. "Should I know who that is?"

"Yeah," I said, nodding my head slowly. "He was the Blind Man Murderer."

"What?" he asked, sounding surprised.

"I was eating breakfast this morning at a restaurant with my dad. When I went to the bathroom, he came in after me. The reason why no one's ever heard any of the victims scream, even when you know they did, is because he was a mutant. He takes sound away. They could scream all they want, and nothing would come out."

"Wait, you're telling me that you _saw_ the killer and you _knew_ it was him?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"Because I was busy."

"Doing what? You saw a murderer, you let him go and then you didn't report it to me because you were _busy_?"

I leaned in to him across the table, tired, scared and angry, and lowered my voice. "I didn't say that I let him get away," I said, looking him straight in the eye.

"Then where is he?"

"He's taken care of," I answered simply.

"And _who_ took care of him?" My eyes flickered over to Logan where he was sitting at the bar, already drinking a beer. I only looked at him for a second, but Tony followed my line of sight. He swore as he looked back at me. "Your dad killed him? That's _murder_ Jayden, they're going to find him and if they find out you were with him, you could be charge as an accomplice or an accessory after the fact."

"No one's going to find out."

"How do you know?"

"Tony, trust me, okay? You're not going to get in trouble for any of this, none of it's going to come back to you, I promise."

"I'm not worried about me; I'm worried about you."

"I'll be fine."

"How do you _know_ it was him? How do you know you didn't just kill some random lunatic?"

"Because I saw him -"

"I know you saw him, but how do you know it was really him?"

"No," I said. "I _saw_ him. There's a difference. I saw him killing all those girls and I saw _why_."

"Why did he do it, then?"

I pulled out the cassette tape from my pocket and slid it to him across the table. "It's all on there," I said.

He picked it up. "This says 'Mom's Favorite Songs'," he said, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Yeah, it's at the beginning of the tape on side A. Forget all the country music crap on the end and the other side."

He rubbed his brow. "Okay, so your dad killed a man you claim was the Blind Man Murder, but before he killed him, you taped his confession on a mix tape of country songs? Are you by chance on any type of medication?"

"No. Family history and attempted suicides prevent me from being on them," I said, shaking my head. "I'm not crazy, okay? I may not be all here, but I'm not crazy. The Blind Man Murderer, Robert Gershwin, is dead, so I don't know what he said. I wasn't there when he died. But he wasn't killing those girls just randomly because he was sick or crazy. His daughter was controlling him and making him do it. She was a paraplegic nineteen-year-old mutant and couldn't do it herself, so she had him kill them."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I found her, and _that's_ what's on the tape. She confessed that she was the one making her father murder them."

"But why?"

"She was trying to find me." He looked ever more confused, but didn't say anything. "Last year, back at the end of summer, my dad and I were in Virginia. We were at a diner. There was something about a sign outside that kept making me want to look at it. So finally I did and when I looked out at the road, I had a vision of a girl getting hit by a semi-truck. I thought she died and didn't think about it again. I had seen people die before, it wasn't anything unusual. But _she_ was the girl. And she thought it was my fault she got hit, because I had the vision of it. So she wanted me dead and she had her father kill all the girls she thought were me."

"But he was killing girls in Canada, you live in New York."

"She saw a glimpse of me when I had the vision of her. It was a memory. I was in Canada, she thought I lived here."

"So why cut out their eyes?"

I sat back in my seat, feeling my stomach begin to churn again at the thought of it. "He cut out the eyes and brought them to her."

"Why?"

"So she could eat them."

"_What_?"

"Yeah, that was my reaction," I said. "She said when she eats their eyes, she can see their lives. That's how she knew none of the girls were me."

"And that's all on this tape?" he asked, holding it up.

"Yeah," I said. "And the reason why it's on that is because that's the only thing I had. Someone gave the tape to me, but our car doesn't play them. So Logan, my dad, bought me one of those cheap players to listen to it on. I didn't know what I was supposed to do to make it an official confession, or whatever, so I recorded it. The sound is a little muffled in parts because it was in my pocket and we were both speaking low, but you can hear enough of it to know what she's saying."

He sat back in his seat, staring at the tape. "So you found her in a hospital in Strathmore?" I nodded. "Which hospital is she in?"

"She's not."

"You just said -"

"She was when I was talking to her. Right now she's probably in the morgue."

He looked away from the tape and back to me, looking me in the eye. "You killed her?"

"I didn't know what else to do."

"You had her confession on tape. You should have brought it to me and let me deal with it."

"And how would you have dealt with it, Tony? By giving the tape to the FBI so they could hear it? So they could know that the people behind the biggest female killing spree in Alberta Canada were two mutants? Think about what they would do to mutants, what they would do to _us_."

"You can't take the law into your own hands because you're afraid of what they would do to mutants."

"If she had been convicted, she would have been killed, wouldn't she? They would have fried her in an electric chair and then we would all be in trouble, wouldn't we?"

"What if they find you?"

"They won't," I said. "They never saw my ID, I gave them a name of someone who's dead, and they didn't see my face because my hair was down and I had on glasses."

"But they're still going to find out that someone murdered her."

"No they won't."

"You can't kill someone without leaving some sort of signs that they were murdered."

"There are twenty-six ways to kill a person without leaving any signs of an attack."

"I didn't know they taught how to murder people in forensics science."

"They don't. I learned that from my father." He looked at me hard and then shook his head. "They'll check her body, but they won't find anything. The poison that I used to kill her was mixed with enough potassium to mask any presence of the toxins. It'll look like she died naturally," I said. "That I did learn from forensics."

"So why are you telling me this? Why give me this tape if she's dead?"

"Because I needed you to know."

"Why?"

"She did all this to find me, it was my fault, and I thought you deserved to know what happened. It was your case."

"And it'll never be solved. The murders will stop, but people will always be scared."

"Maybe. But everyone has to die at sometime, don't they? At least mutants don't have to be scared of living. For now, anyway." He nodded as he put the tape in his jacket pocket. "All right then."

"All right." I stood and looked down at him. "I'm sorry I had to drag you into all of this."

He stood up beside me. "You didn't drag me into anything; this is my job."

"Thank you, Tony," I said. "I really owe you."

"Yeah, you do." He bent his head and gave me a soft, slow kiss. When he pulled back, he was smiling. "Consider your debt paid," he said. "Goodbye Miss Rivers."

"Bye," I said.

And then I watched him leave.

* * *

It took Logan and me two days to get back home. The whole way back, I kept changing. My eyes and hair went back to their proper colors. My teeth were no longer fangs. And all of my tattoos disappeared. I kept looking at myself in the mirror, happy to see Logan's eyes staring back at me once again. But that wasn't the biggest change; it was the fact that I was no longer scared. That sense of fear and dread that had seemed to plague me for so long was suddenly gone and everything seemed so much lighter. 

When we pulled up to the school, it was nearly six in the morning and everyone was still asleep. Logan began climbing the stairs to our rooms, but stopped when he realized I wasn't following him.

"You're not goin' to bed?"

"No, not yet," I said. "I need to think for a little bit."

He nodded and came back down the stairs. "Give me your bag, I'll take it to your room for you." I handed him my bag and he slung it up on his shoulder with ease.

"I don't know if I told you yet or not, but thank you," I said.

"For what?" he asked, titling his head and cocking his eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. "Taking me to my mother's funeral, protecting me, being there for me when I needed you." I shook my head. "I think I would have gone crazy these part two days if it wasn't for you."

"No you wouldn't have."

"Logan…I killed someone, I can't take that back. It's something I have to live with."

"You did what you had to do."

"Did I? I mean, what if Tony was right? What if I should have let them deal with her?"

"You did the right thing."

"How do you know?"

He leaned his face in close, his nose almost touching mine, and looking in my eyes. "'Cause you trusted your instincts. Your intuition told you what to do, and you followed it. That doesn't make it any easier, it never does. But you gotta follow your gut, and you did."

"I took someone's life away."

"And think about how many people's lives you save 'cause of it," he said. "If you would've turned her in, she could've got in someone else's head, and she could've killed more people. You and me, we're crazy kid, we both know it. But she was a different kind'a crazy. If you would've left her, you don't know what she would've done."

"It's still confusing, though."

He gave me a kiss on my forehead. "I know, but I'm here."

"I'm going to go outside for a little while and think," I said. "When I come back in, can I stay with you in your room?"

"Yeah baby, you can stay with me."

I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him. He dropped the bags he had on the floor and hugged me back. He pulled me into his arms and held me to him tightly. I buried my face in his chest and he cradled the back of my head as he kissed the top of it.

"I love you so much, Logan."

"I love you too, baby, and I'm gonna be here for you, and I'm always gonna take care of you."

I pulled away and looked up at him. "You haven't slept in like, three days, why don't you go to bed?"

He brushed the strands of hair out of my eyes. "All right. Don't stay outside too long; you'll freeze."

I nodded. "I won't."

He gave me a kiss on the cheek before picking up our bags and starting back upstairs once again. I watched him walk until he reached the top. Then he stopped and looked at me from over his shoulder. He didn't say anything, but I knew what he was thinking. This was my demon to fight and he knew it, but he wished he could fight it for me. Our eyes met and locked for a long moment before he turned and kept walking. Once he turned the corner, and I couldn't see him anymore, I started my own walk to the back door. I needed to be outside. I needed to breathe, to think. I felt like I was suffocating and I needed out.

When I stepped outside, it was cold, but my time in freezing Canada made it actually almost feel warm. The wind was chilly, but not bitter, so I zipped up my jacket a little higher and I was able to deal with it.

I walked through the garden, even though it was all covered with snow. The same snow that fell as my mother was being buried. The same snow that fell as I waited for an injection of toxins to take effect and kill someone. It was the same snow that killed all the flowers that the Professor and Storm had worked so hard to keep alive. It was the same. It brought death, it watched it, and it wrapped itself around it.

I watched the snow fall around me, catching in my hair as I walked, and it reminded me with each step I took of how unavoidable death was. It was everywhere, all around us, and I still had no idea what it was about. I still didn't know what happened to us. I didn't understand why some of us felt compelled to kill ourselves, and why others fought death until the very end. The only thing I understood about death was that it made life more precious. And I was no longer scared of it.

I kept walking, not really knowing where I was going, until I wound up at Jean's memorial. I saw Scott sitting in front of it and knew that's why I had come that way; I had been drawn to him. I walked closer and stood behind him.

"Happy New Year," he said, not looking at me. "We missed having you here for the real thing."

"How did you know it was me?" I asked.

I felt him smile. "You're the only one who comes out here aside from me," he said. "How was the trip?"

"Horrible."

"Why?" he asked, turning around and looking up at me. When he saw me, his expression changed. He stood up, facing me and ran his cold finger tips over the exposed bruised skin on my neck. His touch sent chills across my body, despite being warm under my jacket. "What happened?"

I grabbed his wrist, keeping his hand to my skin and forcing him to look up at me. "I had a bit of a run in with someone who was pretty keen on killing me. But it didn't work out too well."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, they're just bruises, they'll fade."

He took his free hand and brushed it over my head, grazing my hair. "How did you get this to change? And your eyes?"

"It's kind of a long story."

"Promise to tell me about it later?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

Even though I couldn't see his eyes, I knew he was staring into mine. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"No, but I think I will be."

"I missed you," he said.

I gave him a sad smile. "Yeah, I missed you, too."

"There was something I wanted to give to you on New Years, but you weren't here."

"Well, I'm here now."

He nodded slowly. Then he kissed me. Before I knew what he was doing, his lips were crushing down on mine. And everything else seemed to fade away. I vaguely remembered having to grab his shoulders to keep myself standing as my knees went weak. I remembered more of his hands on my face, caressing my cheeks. But the sweet taste of his lips against mine in a kiss I had dreamt of for so long left me intoxicated to the point of forgetting my own name. And when he pulled away and I could breathe again, I wanted nothing more than to lose my breath in him forever.

"What was that?" I managed to ask breathlessly.

"A kiss."

"Yeah, I got that part. But why?" I asked, trying desperately to look into his eyes.

"I wanted to believe that you had a crush on me, that it was just a fascination that would go away. I wanted to believe that I was a phase you were going through, and you would get over me. And maybe one day you will, I don't know. But I wanted to believe that because no matter how hard I fought…you made me fall for you. I don't know where this is going to go; I don't even know what I'm supposed to do. I haven't been with anyone other than Jean since I was fourteen. But you told me once that you thought she would want me to be happy, and _you_ make me happy," he said, stroking my cheek with the pad of his thumb. "And I'm being unfair to both of us if I don't give this a chance."

"But…why now? Why didn't you say something when I was pouring my heart out to you? Why did you tell me you couldn't be what I needed? Why did you tell me that kissing me was a mistake?"

"Because guys are mean and stupid," he said. "We try to make people mad at us to keep them at a safe distance. If you were mad at me, I could avoid reality. And the reality was that I was trying so desperately to hold onto Jean, but I knew I needed to move on. And I saw me being able to move on with you. You make me smile and laugh, and you make me forget all about the pain. And that really scared me. I've been in fights where I've nearly died, but none of those times scared me as much as realizing a nineteen-year-old girl with an attitude like her father's, a talent for tying cherry stems with her _tongue_, and a smile that lights up a room had won me over. So I pushed you away."

"You scared me too, though," I said as a tear escaped my eye. "I didn't want to get close to anyone, but I did. And everything I felt about you was so new, and it overwhelmed, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. But I didn't push you away."

"I know, but didn't I tell you that guys are mean and stupid?" He gave me a short smile and took my other hand in one of his while he kept the other at my face. "I'm not pushing you away now," he said. "So can you forgive me?"

"I told you; I can't stay mad at you."

He gave me another small smile. "Good," he said, stroking my cheek with his thumb.

"Does that mean I get a second chance?"

"Do you promise not to break my heart this time?"

"Yeah, I promise. I don't want to hurt you anymore."

Another tear rolled down my cheek as I smiled at him. "Then yeah, you get a second chance."

"Good," he said, kissing my forehead sweetly.

"Is this you letting me know that your intentions have changed?" I asked jokingly.

I sensed him smile. "Yeah, my intentions have changed quite a bit," he said and then I felt him tense up.

"Are you okay?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Yeah, it just the Professor."

"What does he want?"

"I have to go on a mission."

"Where?"

"British Columbia."

"When will you be back?"

"Tonight or tomorrow sometime," he said. "But I promise I'll hurry so I can get back to you, okay?"

I nodded. "Yeah, okay." He gave me another kiss. "Be careful, Scott."

"I will be," he said with a smile. "Bye Jayden."

"Bye."

I watched him walk away, the man I loved, the leader of a band of mutants that protected the world, my best friend, and finally he was mine. I could reach out and touch him, I could hold his hand, I could kiss him anytime I wanted, because he was mine. And I knew then that nothing could ever compare to that, and nothing would ever be able to bring me down from that high.

* * *

I went back inside and crawled in bed with Logan and slept for the rest of the day. We got up and took showers, ate dinner and then went back to sleep and slept until the next morning. And then while Logan was still asleep, I got up and went downstairs to see Hank. I hadn't spoken much to him since we had gotten back and I wanted a chance to explain everything that had happened while I was gone. So I did. I talked to him about everything from my mother's funeral, the whole ordeal with the killer and his daughter, and what had happened the morning before in the garden with Scott. He tried to offer me some advice on how to cope with the decisions I had made, but it was still difficult for me. 

"How am I supposed to justify taking someone's life? I mean, part of my mind understands that I did the right thing, but there's still that nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that I made a huge mistake," I said.

"Abundant dulcibus vitiis."

I gave him a cocked eyebrow. "What?"

"It means 'nobody's perfect'," he said.

I gave him a weak smile. "Thanks, but I don't know if that really justifies it."

"If you can't justify it now, then you will never be able to. There's always going to be two sides to each argument. You have to be able to understand what you did, believe that it was right, and move on. From what you've told me, I've come to understand that this young lady was very disturbed and willing to go to any lengths necessary to achieve the revenge she sought. Confucius once said, 'If you devote your life to seeking revenge, first dig two graves'. She killed herself in her attempt to kill you. She brought it upon herself."

"Like karma?"

He gave me a smile. "Perhaps," he said. "But why are you so infatuated with this when it seems that yesterday morning your Prince Charming came to you on a white horse?"

I laughed. "It was hardly a white horse. I was standing in front of Jean's memorial and…he kissed me." I shook my head. "It's not how I imagined how our first kiss together, but it was perfect somehow."

"Well, I am very happy for you my dear."

I smiled at him. "Thank you. I have no idea where this is going to go, but…just knowing that I don't have to wonder about our relationship anymore and that I can just be with him, that makes me happy."

He took my hand and kissed it softly. "And you deserve to be happy, my dear," he said and I heard the sound of the jet landing. He smiled at me. "Go get you Prince Charming; we can finish our conversation later."

I smiled back as I stood from my seat and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thank you, Hank."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

I left his office, jogging as I went out. I nearly ran the whole way to the jet hanger, too excited to even think. To even register the weird feelings in my gut. I ran to the hanger and opened the doors slid open with a 'whoosh'. I walked in, the cold air in the room causing chill bumps to run across my exposed arms. But I didn't care about the chill bumps, I wanted to see Scott.

The first out of the jet was Storm, who looked unusually happy. And not just happy, but giddy. She was beaming.

And the Scott came down the ramp, the same expression as Storm's plastered across his face. It wasn't until then that I realized there was someone else with them. An oddly familiar energy.

Then the third person excited the jet and I felt my heart stop. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I couldn't think.

Storm, Scott and the other woman walked closer to me and I noticed she was holding Scott's hand.

"This is Jayden, Logan's daughter," he said, introducing me to the woman. "Jayden, this is Jean, my wife."

Death: Sometimes it's all in the interpretation.

**The End.**


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